


No Longer Chained

by Sammisel



Category: Bleach
Genre: Add ships later, F/M, Ichigo is mostly a hollow, M/M, No quincies except Ishida and Ryuuken!, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammisel/pseuds/Sammisel
Summary: When he escaped the Shattered Shaft, a new hole formed where the chains once were - and it wasn’t leaving.(AKA, if Ichigo was more of a Hollow than a Shinigami.)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got back into Bleach. Love it until end of the Las Noches arc. Don't really care much for Quincies so I will leave them out mostly. Self indulgent fic, I love Hollow Ichigo lol

“ _Among the countless boxes falling, your Shinigami power resides in just one. Find that one._ ”

Ichigo was falling. The blue skyscrapers of his mindscape were crumbling all around him. Each and every piece of them formed to be yet another white box. Countless, countless white boxes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he shouted. They fell past him in the thousands, and above him were yet more thousands. Crumbling, collapsing. Deteriorating.

The echoed voice of the shadowed man rang out once more, covering the entirety of the isolated world. “ _I won’t listen to excuses. There is no time. If you don’t find it before this world completely crumbles…_ ” He looked down at Ichigo, his cloak whipping in the windless breeze around him. “ _Then you will become a Hollow._ ”

Ichigo plunged into a tear of darkness, submerged in a dense water. Surrounded by the many thousands of white boxes that fell with him. Too many. In just one, his power… In just one…

How could he, who was never good at sensing things anyways, find such a thing in just one of these countless boxes? How could… Ishida said something about…

Ishida. Ishida! How did he figure out that he was a Shinigami in the first place? Something easy. Something high and mighty. Something…

_Did you know? Shinigami spirit threads are colored red._

That’s it!

Instinctually, he pulled. Instead of the boxes coming towards him, from them flew innumerable white threads. White. White. White. And - Red! A single red thread fluttered to him, and he grabbed. All of the others vanished from his view, but that didn’t matter. He pulled, and the box that the thread belonged to opened without even a moment’s struggle. 

The dark innards of the box obscured it, but he was sure of it. Inside was a zanpakuto’s hilt, barely protruding. The threads attached to it swayed in the windless breeze of the chasm, not unlike-

“ _You did well to find me,_ ” the voice reverberated from behind. He turned. The man with the ever swaying cloak stood, staring intently. “ _I hope that next time, my voice will reach your ears._ ”

Find him? “You…” Ichigo said slowly, making the connection. The zanpakuto, this world, the old man. “Could you be…” 

The world shook before he could complete the thought. The rumbling became louder, loud enough to make his ears ring.

“ _What are you doing!?_ ” the man shouted, urgency finally animating him. “ _It’s crumbling! Pull me out already!_ ”

Despite the deafening quaking of the world around him, he could hear the man’s plea perfectly, as if it went through his mind instead of his ears. The man - the zanpakuto. 

Ichigo, not waiting a moment longer, gripped the hilt of the blade and pulled.

\--

Gnawing hunger. That is what Ichigo noticed first as he snapped from the mindscape to reality. Then, the pain. The pain, the pain, the pain. It slashed at him, tore through him, he ripped at the air around him, but couldn’t move his arms. Couldn’t move. Can’t move. He screamed and howled. He can’t move. It hurt. It hurts it hurts IT HURTS

He screamed until his lungs hurt (did it hurt before?) and struggled vainly against whatever held him down. He thrashed and struggled, never stopping to take a breath. A tiny bit of pressure subsided. His arms - his arms were bound. He couldn’t see. Something was on his face. The pressure lessened further. He kept struggling.

Until something bound him further. He couldn’t move at all. All of him was bound. The PAIN the pain the pain the pain the pain - his screams turned hoarse and growly. But they were muffled. 

**STAB**

The pain - or was it the thing on his face - blinded him. Something stabbed his chest. Multiple things. He could barely hear voices crying out over his own howls. Bound. Can’t. Move. Can’t. Move. CAN’T MOVE. MOVE. MOVE.

MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE **MOVE MOVE**

He ripped from his binds - felt his skin going with it - and leaped from the prison. The dark hole of a prison. Can’t see. Something was on his face. Freedom. FREEDOM!

He collided with a wall. Not wasting any time, he lept again, and collided again. And again. Until he fell to the ground with a crash. Only a moment later, as he felt the dust whip around him, the ungodly pain subsided. He heard a voice - squeaky, annoying. The words, however, did not reach him.

The thing on his face, he realized, was a mask. It fit perfectly. It was his mask. It comfortably enveloped his facial features. He pried open his eyes. They were shut from the pain. 

Too bright. The artificial light of the room stabbed through his eyes. He blinked rapidly and it dissipated. A sigh of relief escaped him as he no longer felt the pain from earlier. He relaxed as he felt the familiar press of the shihakusho on his skin, and the weight of his zanpakuto on his back. But, it wasn’t as heavy as it once was. His fingers brushed against the hilt, and gripped it. Cloth. That was new.

“Don’t take us lightly!”

That annoying voice again. It was that asshole hat-and-clog’s kid. 

Hat-and-clogs. 

His free hand balled into a fist as he drew his zanpakuto, or rather, what was left of it. He was going to make that damn shopkeeper pay if it was the last thing he’d do. And considering the looks everyone was giving him, it might as well be.

His face itched. The mask. That wasn’t supposed to be there. A sick feeling welled up in his stomach. His fingers itched to rip it off his face, and he obliged. So horribly unnatural. He tore it from his face in a fervor he didn’t know was there, along with it some of the cloth that still covered his face. Cloth? Whatever.

As he ripped the mask from his face, the yelling stopped. He saw the three of them, hat-and-clogs, the red haired brat, and Ururu. Their combat stances wilted. They were ready to kill him only moments before. Not that he expected any less.

“He… didn’t become a Hollow?” he heard Jinta say, more to himself than anyone else. 

“But there’s… a hole in his chest,” Ururu said quietly.

A hole. Ichigo looked down to discover she was right. From the small parting of his robe, in the center of his chest, he could see a Hollow hole. His breath caught in his throat.

“But he’s wearing a shihakusho, and has a zanpakuto,” Jinta argued. “This doesn’t-”

Slow clapping interrupted him. 

“Congrats!” Urahara said, not a lick of concern showing on his face. He was grinning, even. “You’ve become a Shinigami right on time! Superb! Lesson two: clear!”

Ichigo would have killed the man if he wasn’t preoccupied with the newfound addition (subtraction?) to his body. He shook his head clear. Now was not the time.

He stomped up to the shitty geezer and smacked him over the head with the hilt of his zanpakuto. It made a satisfying impact, and hat-and-clogs whined pathetically. 

“Shitty hat-and-clogs, your luck’s run out,” Ichigo spat, a smirk firmly plastered on his face. “I promised that if I got out of that hole alive, I’d kill you dead!”

At that, Urahara’s usual shifty smile returned. 

“That’s good to hear,” he said, picking up his cane. He twirled it into a resting position on his palms. “Let’s use that energy of yours and go straight to lesson three.”

Ichigo grit his teeth further into the hateful smirk. The hell was this shitty shopkeeper on about?

“Lesson three has no time limit!” Urahara began, his tone playful. It only stoked Ichigo’s rage further, as was most likely intended. “All you have to do is knock my hat off my head with your zanpakuto, and you’re clear-”

Ichigo didn’t wait for him to finish speaking. He launched himself straight at the man and slashed his blade, what was left of it anyways, upwards, creating an enormous arc of energy that sliced through the ground behind the shopkeep. The entire room rumbled slightly from the impact. Urahara, of course, dodged nimbly.

It didn’t knock off the hat, but instead formed a notch on the brim. Good enough, progress already. It’s too bad it didn’t hit the man himself. 

“Impressive, Kurosaki,” hat-and-clogs said without an ounce of sarcasm. “To have performed such an attack with a broken zanpakuto is nothing less than impressive.”

“Of course! I haven’t even started to get serious,” Ichigo growled, pointing the remnant of the zanpakuto at the shopkeep. “And forget that ‘no time limit’ shit, I’ll beat your ass in five minutes!”

If Ichigo weren’t as pissed as he was, he would've heard the tiny chuckle Urahara let out.

“Very well, then,” he said, gripping the handle of his cane. He pulled slowly, and from the sheath he drew his blade. “In five minutes, we’ll settle this.”

\--

The slash missed him by a hair’s breadth, but nicked his skin regardless. A bead of blood drooled from the cut. Ichigo’s eyes widened. This man…

“You let your guard down,” Urahara said, a slight frown sporting his features. “‘The sword doesn’t belong to a Shinigami, so it’s not a zanpakuto, so it can’t cut me.’ Is that correct?” 

He didn’t know how to respond, so he said nothing. His heartbeat roared thunderously in his ears. This man, was he…?

“You’re naive, Kurosaki,” he continued, voice tinged sour. He wasted no time as he addressed the blade - zanpakuto. “Awaken, Benihime.”

The power emanating from the zanpakuto stung him as it whipped around the shopkeep. This man, hat-and-clogs, was no doubt a Shinigami. After the power practically slapping him in the face, Ichigo would have to be braindead to not see it. His skin crawled.

“She is a 100%, genuine zanpakuto, this girl,” Urahara said, showing off the full blade of the zanpakuto. With no wasted movements, he moved the blade to his side.

“Benihime…” Ichigo said slowly, in a trance. “A zanpakuto’s name…”

“That’s right,” he said. He walked closer to Ichigo, who made no movements to flee. “Every zanpakuto has their own name. Yours is no exception.” He angled the zanpakuto to Ichigo’s throat. At the very last moment, Ichigo snapped to his senses, and leapt out of the way of the oncoming strike. He looked at where he was just a second before, and all that was left was a crater. He shuddered.

But he had no time to think. From the dust came Urahara, zanpakuto once again poised to kill. He was going to die. He wasted all this effort, becoming a Shinigami once again, just to die like a dog. He didn’t blink when Urahara’s blade was blocked by his own. He struggled, struggled vainly to hold back the immense hidden strength of the man. The shopkeep didn’t seem winded in the slightest.

“I’m impressed that you could stop my blade with your zanpakuto like that. You’ve got guts,” Urahara drawled as he pressed down further. A slight crack formed in Ichigo’s blade. “But, Benihime isn’t so sweet as to let you block her completely with that broken sword.”

Time slowed. His senses screamed danger as Benihime cut through his own zanpakuto like butter. He jumped to the side before it could come in contact and rend his own flesh, and was almost too late. He eyed the scattered fragments of his own zanpakuto as they flew by. 

There was no way. There was no way to beat this man and live. His zanpakuto was cut. All that was left was the hilt. What could he do with just a hilt? What could he do, even with a full zanpakuto? This man was unstoppable. No. No. He couldn’t.

Ichigo turned tail and fled, thinking nothing else but preserving his own life. What a coward he was. What a horrible coward. But he couldn’t face him. Fear coursed through his veins like it replaced his own blood, adding speed to his flight. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” he heard. Behind him? To his right? He dove away as he heard the ring of Benihime almost lop his head from his shoulders. Urahara’s voice was hard to make out with the blood roaring in his ears. “Your zanpakuto was simply big, nothing else. No reiatsu. Just a swollen, useless object in the shape of a sword.”

He heard the ring again, but this time raised his hilt to block it. It was no use. Benihime cut through what was left of his pathetic excuse of a zanpakuto as if it wasn’t there at all. Urhara graciously avoided cutting off Ichigo’s arm in that moment.

“That’s why it breaks as easily as that,” Urahara finished. He eyed the rest of Ichigo’s zanpakuto. Just a meager bit of the hilt left, only what fit in Ichigo’s hand. 

“Now then, your sword is gone,” he said, slowly making his way to where Ichigo stood. He stopped only inches away. Why was the man drawing out his execution? “You still want to come at me with that?” He chuckled with no real mirth. “Come now, it’s only knocking off my hat. It’s not impossible even with just a hilt. Or, what’s left of one.” 

Ichigo had no response, and Urahara continued, not expecting one.

“It’s no longer a question of bravery or what not,” Urahara said matter-of-factly. “For if you intend to continue fighting me with that toy…” His clothing began to sway with the increased reiatsu output. “I _will_ kill you.”

Killing intent flooded from the man in front of him in waves, and before he could raise Benihime to deliver the final blow, Ichigo snapped from the sludge-like trance. His instincts kicked in, and he fled. His life on the line and no escape, he only wanted to get away. But it was no use.

Urahara lazily gained on him. He was right behind him at all times. To his side!? Ichigo had no time to process - he jumped over the incoming blade, aimed at his heart, or lack of one. Again, where he once stood was nothing but rubble. He ran.

This was pathetic. 

How could he be such a coward?

Something was wrong with him. 

How could he just run away like this?

Is that all he was in the end? A coward, with nothing to show for his accomplishments but a hole in his chest? 

Pathetic.

Pathetic!

He was so-

“ _What are you doing?_ ”

He stopped in place. In front of him, the man in the ever swaying cloak stood. The one from his mindscape. His voice reverberated through his body.

“ _Why do you run, Ichigo?_ ”

He shivered from the echo. Around him, the world collapsed into nothingness. All he could see, all that existed, was the man in the ever swaying cloak.

“ _You still have not called me,_ ” the old man said. His voice was unearthly yet so ever familiar. “ _Face forward, Ichigo. You should be able to hear it now. That which blocks your ears is worthless fear._ ”

So familiar. He knew who this was. 

“ _The enemy is one, you are one. What is there to fear?_ ”

In his soul, his name was entrenched. Forgotten, but not lost. But now, it has surfaced. 

“ _Cast off your fear! Face forward! Go forward! Never stand still; retreat and you will age, hesitate and you will die! Shout! My name, it’s-!_ ”

His name, his zanpakuto’s name, it was-

“ **ZANGETSU!** ” 

A brilliant white light erupted from where Ichigo stood, intersected with intense and erratic black. His reiatsu came off in waves, and forced the onlookers to hide under cover lest they be blown from their feet. Urahara stood his ground against the maelstrom of power whipping about, almost unaffected. He still held down his hat, just in case.

In the center of the storm was Ichigo, not quite standing. He was leaning on the hilt of a new zanpakuto. Sleek and sharp, its size rivaled almost his entire body. Undoubtedly, the weight of such an instrument would be a burden, were it not for his strength. Its hilt was covered in a cloth not unlike the cloth that covered him before, and the blade itself seemed to absorb the light, it being an odd fully black. 

With almost no effort, he lifted the zanpakuto with but a single hand. As he examined it, he heard the villain of a shopkeep speak up.

“My, well done!” Urahara said, his previous frown now transformed into a grin. His cheery voice grated on Ichigo’s nerves far more than the cowardice he experienced earlier ever did. “Now that you’ve finally put a name to the blade, I’d say we should really start lesson three!”

He had such a punchable face.

“Urahara, I don’t know why I’m warning you, but you’d better dodge this,” Ichigo said, before lifting his arms to strike.

“Eh?” 

“I can’t hold back - I’ll chop off more than that stupid hat of yours!”

Urahara’s eyes widened. The amount of reiatsu - it couldn’t be blocked, not directly. Dodging it at this rate was a fool’s errand as well. He had no choice.

“Call out, Benihime!” he shouted. Right on time. Red mist shrouded him moments before Ichigo swung down, releasing an absolute wave of destruction.

His hat, he realized as he struggled to deflect Kurosaki’s reiatsu, was not on his head.

\--

Ichigo hadn’t been home for the last three days. His absence of presence definitely left a mark on the Kurosaki household, whether it be Yuzu’s bawling or Karin’s increased grumpiness (was that even possible?). Isshin pretended to be unaffected, but with where his son has gone, and where he was planning to go, even he was worried. Of course, whenever Yuzu asked where big brother was, he would laugh and brush off the question. He was just out releasing his teenage angst, he would say, just as he did as a teenager. Probably out somewhere on a walk, or maybe met a lady friend.

He knew where his son was going. To save the Kuchiki girl, put on trial. Sometimes he wondered, how deep Kuchiki Byakuya’s loyalties must lie for him to sacrifice his own family just for the greater good. As a Shiba, there wasn’t a chance in Hell that Ichigo would just take that lying down. Not even as a Shiba, but as a Kurosaki.

Masaki. If only she could see her son now. How proud she would be. Her son, standing up to impossible odds just to save a friend. There was no doubt Ichigo would face his death there. But what could he do? Any attempts to stop Ichigo from leaving would be met with opposition, and he would leave the moment his back was turned regardless. He clutched the charm close to his chest. His son would die a hero.

Hollow.

He jumped to his feet. There wasn’t much he could do against a Hollow as he was now, but he was damned if he couldn’t stop it from getting to his daughters.

The Hollow’s reiatsu was slowly going towards the clinic. There were no other signs, like their terrible roars or the sounds of property destruction. But make no mistake, it was absolutely a Hollow. A familiar one, as well.

The doorbell rang. But the Hollow was right outside. What kind of Hollow rings a doorbell? If he stepped outside, would he get mauled? Who would protect his daughters then?

He stalked up to the door. The door handle jiggled back and forth, and he heard a frustrated grumble. The doorbell rang again.

Tentatively, he unlocked the door to take a look - and had it slammed in his face.

“God dammit, old man!” he heard a very familiar voice say. “I knew old age was catching up to you, but I didn’t expect you to be that slow.” 

There was no mistaking it. That was the Hollow’s reiatsu coming from Ichigo. It was faint, only able to be detected in short range, but it was there. But this reiatsu - it still felt like Ichigo. Just… as a Hollow.

“Ichigo?” he muttered, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead that the door slammed into. 

Footsteps rushed downstairs. Both of the girls, here with this Hollo- to see Ichigo.

“ICHI-NI!” Yuzu shouted as she launched herself at her big brother. She was crying before she even made contact with him. Ichigo fell to the ground from the force of her massive hug. “ICHI-NI, WHERE WERE YOU!?”

“Just out with some friends,” Ichigo replied, with a soft smile decorating his features. It was immediately replaced with his usual scowl as soon as he spotted Isshin watching. “Were you worried?”

“Yeah! Of course I was!” she cried, squeezing her brother even tighter. “You were gone for three days! Stupid big brother! Even Karin was crying!”

“I was _not!_ ” Karin protested, to which everyone laughed. She blushed, but didn’t leave.

Isshin didn’t discard his suspicions, but there was no need to ruin a mood. With a big cheesy grin, he pulled everyone into a hug, which was met with loud protests, but no pulling away. He let go but patted Yuzu on the head.

“My precious daughters were so worried about you, Ichigo!” he wailed dramatically. “But you’re finally living the life of a teenager! My son! My flesh and blood! Already running away from home to meet up with girlfriends after dark!” He ran to the shrine of Masaki he had on the wall, and sobbed loudly while plastering himself to it. “What would Masaki think!? That her son is all grown up! Oh, Masaki!” 

He felt his youngest daughter’s calming touch on his shoulder. She was so precious. He wished they would stay that way forever.

“There, there, father…” Yuzu murmured, patting him a bit awkwardly.

He felt the Hollow reiatsu leave to go upstairs, alleviating some of the tension. There was no question about it. That was definitely his son. If he concentrated, he could detect some Shinigami. But, it was mostly the violent and dark Hollow reiatsu. He resisted the sigh that bubbled up. Kisuke must have had a hand in this. 

He would deal with this later.


	2. Chapter 2

The cool night air felt good on his face. It calmed his nerves slightly as he walked. The moonlight that cast down on him, that lit his somber expression, felt as much a comfort as being home did. To call the night more of a home than the harsh summer day had become the new norm since he regained his power. The concern was pushed far to the back of his mind, as more present issues pressured him.

Rukia. 

The barest thought of her name clouded his mind. How he failed to protect her. How it was he who doomed her to a life in chains, for a crime _he_ committed. How her own brother, without a trace of sympathy on his face, took her away. And how she had let him.

It was her who brought him into the world of Shinigami and Hollows. It was she who paved his future. Who steeled his resolve. To face his fear. To fight.

He wouldn’t let her be forgotten after all that. He wouldn’t let her leave his life, everyone’s lives, just like that. He would save her.

The flickering of a street lamp snapped him from his thoughts. In his absentmindedness, he had almost passed his destination. The Urahara Shop. Seven days prior, the man “arranged” a meeting with him to enter the Soul Society. To keep a window open at exactly 12 AM. He only hoped that no one would see the message that splattered all over the room in what looked like _blood_ before he could get back.

Or maybe he’d make Kon clean it for him.

“Kurosaki!” he heard Hat-and-clogs call. He waved obnoxiously until Ichigo walked closer.

“Hat-and-clogs,” Ichigo greeted. “For your sake, that blood shit better wash off clean.”

“Now, now, Kurosaki! It’s a bit early to be so grumpy, isn’t it?” Urahara said with a cheeky grin. He ushered Ichigo a bit closer and whispered, “There’s a bit of time before everyone else arrives. I called you early to address that new hole you’re sporting.”

“Everyone… else?” Ichigo asked.

The grin didn’t move from Hat-and-clogs’ face as he ignored Ichigo’s question, instead opting to push him inside the store. Despite the lights turned off, the soft glow of the moonlight shone through the windows illuminated the insides well enough. A small part of Ichigo felt that, even if there were to be no light at all, he would probably still be able to see.

They stopped at the edge of the entrance to the underground lair, but Urahara made no move to open it. Instead, he sat Ichigo down to search through some boxes he had stacked nearby. 

“It’d probably be easier to find whatever you’re looking for if you turned on the lights, Hat-and-clogs,” Ichigo called. The only reply he received was the sound of further shuffling, and a quiet ‘ah-ha!’.

Soon after, Hat-and-clogs reentered the room carrying what looked like a thick white bandage, though something about it seemed a bit off. It glowed slightly, and radiated an almost imperceptible hum of power. He unfurled it and placed it in Ichigo’s hands.

“And this is?” Ichigo asked. It was smooth to the touch, but otherwise didn’t feel like anything special.

“An answer to two of your problems,” Hat-and-clogs said. “It’s effectively a reiatsu dampener. It’ll hide that Hollow reiatsu you’re putting out, and make you harder to detect. You could also use it to hide the hole.”

Ichigo blanched. 

“I… Hollow reiatsu?”

“Why, yes! It’s faint, but if I can detect it in your human body, then it can’t be ignored in your Shinigami form,” Urahara answered. “My, Kurosaki, don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed!”

Ichigo said nothing. The bandage-like cloth felt suddenly heavy in his hands. For the whole week, he was...

“Ah, it’s almost time,” Hat-and-clogs interrupted his thought process. Both hands held his cane, one end aimed precariously at Ichigo’s head. Before he could react, the cane shot through his body, pushing his soul from the host. The body slumped to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

“Wha- HEY!” Ichigo shouted as he picked himself from the floor. The way his body was positioned, the way the neck was angled was… uncomfortable. “Give me some warning before you do something like that! What the hell!”

Hat-and-clogs’ grin widened. Asshole.

“Kurosaki, would you please meet me outside once you put on the dampener?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, left the room. Shortly after, he heard the main door open and shut.

Ichigo’s left eye twitched. If he ever had the opportunity, he would put that shitty shopkeep in the ground. But only if his dickishness outweighed the helpfulness. Too bad, really.

He looked at his crumpled body. Despite seeing it so many times during the various Hollow hunts, he could never get used to staring at himself like that. It was just so… limp. In its hands, it still held the dampener. He would have to pry it. But before that, he needed to adjust the body’s position. 

He gently picked it up and placed it back on the mat, spread as evenly as he could get it. He winced slightly when the head lolled about on its neck. This was about as good as he could make it. Maybe he should have taken Kon with him before he left.

The dampener was held with a death grip, but that wouldn’t be much of an issue. He opted to pry each finger one by one, not wanting to damage the cloth. Hat-and-clogs probably made more, but he wouldn’t take that chance. One by one, he opened his hands, and the dampener was free.

To hide his Hollow hole, then? It was certainly large enough. Without further thought, he lowered the upper section of his shihakusho and wrapped the dampener around his chest, over the hole. Just like bandages. It seemed to magically shift into place after covering it, like it was a natural part of his body. Except it wasn’t. It was hard to breathe. Too tight. 

**Suffocating.**

Voices outside made him drop the thought. Oddly familiar voices. He pulled up the robe and left the room.

\--

“Chad? Ishida?” Ichigo asked, bewildered. He did a double take. “And Inoue? What are you guys doing here?”

None of the three newcomers were surprised to see him. Four-eyes even smirked slightly, and Inoue politely bowed.

“Kuchiki saved me once,” Chad said with steely conviction, though expression unchanged. “So I’m going to save her with you.”

At a loss for words, he looked over to Ishida. 

“I don’t care much for saving a Shinigami, but I can’t keep the score uneven like this,” Ishida said, adjusting his glasses. “So I’m coming too.”

“Wha- score?” Ichigo stammered. “What?”

“And I’m going because Kuchiki... “ Inoue began, but faltered. She shook her head and continued. “Because Kuchiki is my friend! I can’t just forget her and leave her behind! She didn’t have to _do_ anything, and there doesn’t _have_ to be a reason to save her, except that she’s my friend!”

Inoue breathed heavily after her outburst and left everyone wide eyed and stunned. Her face dusted pink with a blush after she realized what she said. She blushed harder when Urahara clapped lightly.

“My, what a rousing speech, Orihime!” he cheered, a cheeky grin hidden behind his fan. “It’s good to know that the four of you are sufficiently motivated.”

She hid her face in her hands and whined. 

“I do hope you can keep this energy during the stages of invasion,” a new gravelly voice spoke up.

Ichigo immediately discarded his confusion to be on guard. His hand on the hilt of Zangetsu, he scanned the area, but there was no one other than those already present. From the shadows slinked out a cat, its smooth black fur glinting in the light of the street lamp.

“Oh, Yoruichi! You’re here!” Inoue exclaimed to the cat. The cat… nodded?

The cat fixed its gaze to Ichigo, and with a soul piercing look, began… talking. 

“Child, you cannot pretend that you haven’t noticed the power welling within these individuals,” the cat (Yoruichi?) said, its voice tinged with a slight echo. “While you were training to regain your Shinigami power, they trained to hone their own power as well. Be grateful that they are willing to place their own lives on the line to accompany you, and bow your head!”

Ichigo blinked slowly and shakily raised a finger to point. 

“A- a cat just-” he sputtered out, eyes wide. “You- a cat- everyone is- what?”

“Do not act as if you haven’t seen stranger, fool,” the cat scoffed. He could’ve sworn that it rolled its eyes. “Men. Honestly!”

Inoue giggled. “Ishida had the same reaction!”

“Don’t lump me in with him!” Ishida protested.

“No, his reaction was much stronger,” the cat said, it’s eyes cast with mirth. “The boy practically jumped back and screamed at the sight of me.”

“ _Yoruichi!_ ” 

Everyone except Chad, Ichigo, and the Four-eyes in question laughed.

“I think that’s a natural reaction,” Chad mumbled.

The snap of a fan brought everyone’s attention. Urahara slid open the door to the shop, where the lights were _still_ off.

“Yes, yes, it’s good to see everyone enjoying themselves on such a tense occasion,” he said, a degree more serious than his usual. “It would be best to go inside before we further discuss the details, no?”

\--

“May I please have everyone’s attention?” Urahara said with two concise claps. All wandering gazes that admired the enormous underground base returned to him. 

With a single snap of his finger, a tall gate, made from what looked like masses of paper, gathered from thin air. Somehow, its sudden appearance didn’t kick up even a piece of dust, as if it had always been there. It didn’t look like the gates that Byakuya had summoned whatsoever.

“This,” Urahara said, gesturing to the paper gate. “is the gate that leads to the Soul Society. It’s officially called the Senkaimon. I would like everyone to listen _very_ closely to what I have to say next.”

Everyone nodded, except Yoruichi, and listened intently.

“This particular gate was made by piling reishi exchangers atop a normal Senkaimon. That is to say, it will allow those of you who cannot freely enter a soul form to go inside the Soul Society, by effectively transforming you into reishi, as, of course, only souls can exist there. However…” 

He paused to let the information sink in before continuing.

“Using the Senkaimon this way comes with drawbacks. We can keep this gate open and connected to the Soul Society for, at the very most, four minutes.”

“What!?” Ichigo interrupted. “Is it even possible to get there in that kind of time?”

“No, it’s normally impossible,” he answered. “This was an unreasonable suicide mission to begin with. You all have only four minutes to reach the other side, and if you can’t do it in that time, then…”

He left any semblance of a grin, replaced with a tense frown. Such a look did not compliment his sullen complexion.

“You will all be permanently imprisoned within the space between the Soul Society and the Living World. The Dangai.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Glances were shared through the group, and Inoue stepped forward.

“Then, how do we make it?” she asked. Her eyes were set on the gate, her expression hardened.

A flash of black. Yoruichi leapt in front of the group, and affixed their soul piercing gaze on Inoue. No hint of humor permeated their golden eyes, instead backed with a steeled confidence. Even before they spoke, the message was obvious. 

“There is only one way,” they said, their tail low and rigid. “And that is to move forward. Never stop, never slow. Face no other way, see only what is ahead. The four of you, even if personally unacknowledged, have all prepared to die before you arrived. To save, and to protect. So do not waste your promise before you get there!” Their eyes narrowed as they turned their gaze to cover the group. “I will act as your guide. Do not lose sight of me. Do not fall behind.”

The inside of the Senkaimon lit up abruptly in a brilliant flash. Ichigo flinched and shut his eyes, the light stabbed them like a thousand needles. The artificial sun of the underground had been irritating enough. Tessai and Urahara stood on opposite sides, powering the paper gate with their **sweet** reiatsu. He shook his head. Sweet?

“Is everyone ready?” Urahara asked. After he received affirmation through nods, he continued. “Please jump through the gate simultaneously as it opens. Go!”

The blinding light turned to a dim, churning grey, but none of them had a chance to care. That was their signal, so all at once they leapt through it.

\--

Dark. Churning. Frothing, seething. The walls of sludge were closing in fast. Faster than they could run. In front of them, a pinprick of light. The Soul Society. It was impossible to tell how far it was, but they knew only to keep running, and to keep their eyes ahead. They kept speaking to an absolute minimum, to save their energy. Ichigo could hear the oozing and the dripping getting closer and closer. Right behind him. The hair on his neck stood up. Almost there…

The walls suddenly parted behind them. At first a relief, an otherworldly light cut through the darkness and illuminated the path ahead of them clearly. The Soul Society was not far. 

“B-behind us!” Ishida gasped. He had taken a peek at the source of the light, evidently. “What the hell is that!?”

Ichigo braved a look, along with everyone else, and immediately regretted it. Barrelling towards them at an unstoppable pace was what looked to be an enormous train with its only describable feature being a lone, circular headlight. They couldn’t outrun it. Not at that pace. Not at a sprints pace. The Soul Society, within arms reach, and the reaper’s scythe just as close.

“The Cleaner!” Yoruichi shouted, not daring to look back. “It comes through the Dangai once every seven days! But don’t gawk - RUN!” 

His lungs were burning. Nonstop sprinting at top speed for minutes on end. But he had to go faster. If only he could push just a little more. They were all so close. He could smell something dizzyingly sweet from the swelling light of the Soul Society. The dampener, it was too stifling. He had to get it off. Just a little push. He brought his hand to pull at one of the straps-

“Boy! Don’t touch that!” Yoruichi hissed. The cat had been watching him. He swatted his own hand away and resumed sprinting. “We’re almost through! Go! One final push!”

The light from behind threatened to envelop them. Right behind them. The deep rumbling thundered through his skull. He reached an arm out. They wouldn’t make it.

“Santen-kesshun! I reject!” 

\--

The smell. It all but knocked him from his feet. A horribly, deliciously **sweet** fragrance. He stood in place, dazed. It was so **sweet**. Too **sweet**. Unbearable. _**Overwhelming**_. A droplet of saliva escaped his mouth. The very **air** was _**sweet**_. There were so many of them. Hiding. Hiding from him? **So many**. 

“-saki? Kurosaki?” he heard a voice say. The sounds were muted. Distorted. Wavering. Like he was underwater.

“We can’t have you slowing us down, you know,” someone said. To him? “Snap out of it already!”

“Ichigo…” 

The air was thick like syrup. Sweet, like syrup. He dimly noticed that he was, in fact, on the ground. But he couldn’t get up. Couldn’t bring himself to move through the jelly that clogged his lungs. The light was too bright. It shone through his eyelids. **Disgustingly sweet**.

“Sado, pick him up,” someone said. “There are those in the Rukongai that would take advantage of a Shinigami so helpless. And follow me, I’ll explain as we walk.”

Something warm lifted him from the cold ground, and hefted him over their shoulder. The reiatsu was overwhelming his senses - undoubtedly Chad. It wasn’t sweet. More of a mix. Savory? It was hard to tell.

“That way is the Seireitei, where Shinigami reside and where Rukia is being held,” the same person said. The voice became less muffled as it continued - Yoruichi. “But simply walking in would be an impossibility. The entire perimeter is surrounded by the Sekkiseki wall, which completely negates all reishi that comes in contact with it. Additionally, it’s well guarded, and even if we were to defeat all of the guards, we would be met with further opposition inside. It would be akin to walking through the front door and painting a giant target over your heads.”

“Eh? Then is there another way?” Inoue - **sour** \- asked. 

“Normally, going through the gates is the only way to enter the Seireitei. But there might be a way to brute force our way through the barrier. I have allies here that may be able to help us.”

“That’s where we’re going, then?” Ishida asked. His nose wrinkled involuntarily at the salty sweetness that emanated from the Quincy. How did he not notice these scents before? They were so overwhelming now.

“Yes,” Yoruichi answered. “Shiba Kukaku is the name we’ll be looking for. Though, I doubt we’ll have much trouble finding the house - it’s quite recognizable.” 

He pried a single eye open. His vision no longer swam. He took a deep breath. The air wasn’t as oppressive. 

“Recognizable?” Ishida mused.

He flexed his hands. They moved smoothly. Good. 

“You’ll see,” Yoruichi purred in amusement to a joke only they seemed to understand.

As he jostled about, he was shifted back into place. His eyes widened in realization. He- he was carried by Chad, over the shoulder like some sort of princess. Embarrassment wormed its way through his body.

“Erm, Chad,” Ichigo began. His voice felt rough. He cleared his throat before he tried again. “You- you can let me down now, thanks.”

If Chad was rattled at the sudden sound of his voice, he didn’t show it. The collective tiny gasps of the others, however, told another story. Dutifully, Chad stopped in place and set Ichigo to the ground, though kept a stiff hold on his arms until he stood to his feet without wavering.

“Ichigo, you surprised me!” Ishida scolded him. “If you were having problems, you should’ve said something before you just collapsed like that - you really worried Orihime! Honestly, you…!”

One of his eyebrows quirked. “We’re on a first name basis already?” he asked, smirking.

Ishida’s face lit up.

“We are _not_ , that was a slip of the tongue!” he protested. Ichigo’s smirk deepened at the flailing. “And don’t try to change the subject! If we all get caught and die because of some sort of health condition you have-”

“Ishida, please,” Inoue interrupted. “Don’t yell at Kurosaki the moment he woke up! Be nicer than that!” She turned to Ichigo. “Kurosaki, a-are you okay? What happened to you?”

“Uh-”

“We should keep moving, try to remember we don’t have much time left,” Yoruichi said pointedly. “Talk while we walk. Lean on someone if you must. Sado, if he falls behind, just pick him up again.”

Chad nodded, against Ichigo’s minute protestations. The trek started again. This time, he was able to see where he was. Were there no horribly sweet smell constantly wafting through the air, it would have reminded him of the park near his neighborhood. They ran along a dirt pathway that untamed grass clung to and grew in patches, like it had been long abandoned.

“So,” Ishida said, calmer. Ichigo resisted the urge to sigh. “What was that then?”

“It was…” he said slowly, fumbling for an excuse. How stupid would he sound if he said it was a _smell_ that did that? “A training injury?” Yoruichi narrowed their eyes at him, but said nothing.

“A training injury?” Ishida scoffed. “That explains the bandage, at least. Why the hell didn’t you get it healed before we left? You idiot, what if it acted up when we were in the Dangai?”

“Wha- get healed how!?” Ichigo argued. “Who exactly do I know can heal?”

“Your family runs a _clinic_.”

“Sure, let me just ask my _human_ dad to heal my Shinigami form! What’re you, stupid?”

“You- Urahara, then!”

“The both of you! Come on!”

They shut their mouths. It was Inoue again that stepped between them. Her cheeks were slightly puffed out. Her expression changed. A thoughtful look, foreign to her airheaded nature. She lightly touched her hairpins, which glinted unnaturally in response.

“I… can heal,” she said. “Kurosaki, if it’s bothering you, I can…” She trailed off, and looked at him expectantly.

She could heal. How? With those hairpin faeries? He glanced down at his chest. Could she heal _that_? 

“Inoue, I-”

“There it is,” Yoruichi announced. 

Whatever Ichigo was about to say died on his lips when he saw something that resembled a mad scientist’s hideout at the top of the hill they were climbing. The design was an absolute mess. Huge stone arms from the ground held up a banner that read ‘SHIBA KUKAKU’, and behind it was a comparatively tiny cottage. Next to the cottage was an unbelievably tall chimney, easily dwarfing the house ten times over. 

“See? Rather recognizable, no?” the cat said. A purr that sounded suspiciously like laughter rumbled in their throat. “So it’s arms this time? Quite the interesting design!”

Both he and Ishida almost fainted at the unparalleled disaster of a house that met their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soul society is stinky to a newly formed hollow
> 
> Each type of soul has its own flavor, but generally it's:   
> Shinigami and human souls, and by extension the Soul Society (including the Rukongai) is sweet, like candy and fruit.  
> Hollows are savory and umami, like meat and vegetables.   
> Quincies are salty and sweet.
> 
> The stronger the soul, the more pronounced the taste/smell is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof Sorry about the break. Got back into Aion, then Twitch, then blah blah blah. AKA, got distracted haha. And my classes will be starting soon! I'll work hard to make sure the next chapter doesn't take too long so I can get it out before they start up again. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Ichigo didn’t know what to expect when he entered the freakshow of a house. A flight of stairs that were right at the entrance that led only downwards (in a house with an upper floor?) was definitely not it. If Yoruichi hadn’t been immediately recognized by the two gatekeepers, he would’ve taken a lot longer to enter. Or just find another way to Rukia. When had he decided to trust the cat, anyways?

It was a long way down through the dimly lit stairwell. Muted whispers of a conversation between the guardsmen and Yoruichi were the only sounds other than the light echoing footsteps, though the atmosphere was far from tense. Even Ichigo could read a room at times - this was definitely not an enemy’s trap. 

Eventually, the endless staircase reached a pit. Contrast to the look of the place outside, before him was a modern Japanese interior. It appeared to be a long hallway, more akin to an entranceway where shoes are taken off, with a wall on three sides and a shoji on the fourth. His sandals audibly clacked on the polished wooden floors, which reflected the light of the electrical (spirits had electricity?) lamps affixed to the ceiling. He kept any comments to himself, though Inoue wore her curiosity plainly on her face.

“Come in!” a voice shouted from behind the shoji.

In a fervor that matched only when they saw Yoruichi, the gatekeepers rushed to slide open the doors.

In the middle of the room ahead of them sat a lone woman, taking a drag from a pipe in her hand. Though her garb was rather old fashioned, the way she sat exuded a rough attitude. From her bandaged head to her prosthetic arm, she had clearly seen her fair share of battles. Though, the way the gatekeepers reacted to the sound of her voice, Ichigo didn’t have to guess who she was.

“Yo, Yoruichi,” Shiba Kukaku said, smoke drifting lazily from her lips. “Yer early.” Her cold stare shifted to the group behind the cat. “You didn’t tell me about these little snots in yer message.”

“Didn’t I?” Yoruichi said. “Regardless, I have a favor to ask.”

“You always do,” she muttered. She raised her voice to an incredible volume. “You kids can come in, you know! Quit hoverin’ around my doorway!”

Even Chad jumped when she snapped at the group, and they all scurried to sit beside Yoruichi. The cat let out a chuckle lined by a throaty purr.

“A-ah, so these are the kinds of people who are friends with Yoruichi, then…” Inoue said. The color drained from her face when she realized she said it aloud.

“Nice to meet you too, brat,” Kukaku responded without malice. A grin replaced her previously stern expression. “So what’s all this about, then? If it’s my expertise you need…”

“We need a way into the Seireitei,” Yoruichi said bluntly.

Though the expression didn’t change on the woman’s face, the atmosphere of the room shifted. There was no animosity, but instead cold. The cat’s stare bore into her, waiting. The two of them were having a conversation that required no words, that could be only understood by them. Finally, after what seemed to drag on for minutes on end, the silence was broken by a loud sigh from Kukaku.

“Right, then,” she snapped, lifting her gaze from the cat. “There’s no way a plot like this didn’t have Urahara sniffing through it, so it’s not like I could refuse you anyways. But the lot of you!” The group jumped again at her sudden exclamation, with Ishida nearly jumping to his feet. “I don’t trust any of you as far as I could throw ya. Even with Yoruichi endorsin’ you, I can’t have you blabbin’ about what you see here.”

“None of us will-” Chad began.

“So, I’m stickin’ one of my minions on yer group,” she interrupted. She stopped to take a lengthy drag before continuing. “The idiot might prove himself useful for once, so I’ll have him babysit the lot of you.”

Though it was difficult to read an expression on the face of a cat, Yoruichi made their exasperation clear as day. Kukaku ignored it and stood up to walk towards a pair of closed sliding doors at the other end of the room.

“You don’t mean _him_ , do you?” Yoruichi all but growled after her. “That boy wouldn’t cooperate with our little Shinigami here if his life depended on it!”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” she said, hand on the edge of the door. “I’ll shapen up the brat. After all, he can’t ignore his dear big sister.” 

She slid the door open so forcefully that Ichigo thought it would rip from the wall, and revealed the grovelling figure of a man. Not grovelling in fear, he corrected himself, but as a greeting. Forehead on the floor, the man definitely knew how to respectfully compose himself. This was Kukaku’s younger brother?

“A pleasure to meet you,” the man greeted the group without looking up. His words quaked almost unnoticeably. “I am Shiba Ganju. Please think of me if you need anything!”

He lifted his head from his floor to face the group and smiled - until his eyes met Ichigo. He froze, and the smile strained. Slowly, he turned to face Kukaku.

“Hey. Sis,” he said, his voice stilted. “There’s a Shinigami here.”

“Sure is,” she responded. She took another drag and blew the smoke in his direction. He coughed and waved it away.

“And that’s… not a problem?” he asked. 

“Nope,” she said. “And yer not allowed to make it a problem as long as yer under my roof.”

He nodded a little unwillingly, and shot Ichigo a death glare. The kind of death glare that says, ‘it’s on sight’. Confused, but not wanting out of a potential fight, Ichigo met the glare with his own. Yoruichi sighed audibly and facepawed.

“Koganehiko, go outside and help Shiroganehiko prepare,” Kukaku announced, cutting through the tension. “The rest of you, shut up and follow me.” 

\--

“This,” Kukaku said, her voice echoing across the enormous room. “Is how you’ll get to the Seireitei.” 

In the middle of the room was an impossibly large cylinder that's length tore through the ceiling above. Undoubtedly, Uryuu surmised, this was the ‘chimney’ that he saw poking from the ground. The top was capped, which meant no light could escape to the underground. He narrowed his eyes. Could this be some kind of cannon? Perhaps it would destroy the Sekkiseki wall…

“You’ll all be shot through the sky, through the Sekkiseki wall,” she continued.

“Through the sky!?” Kurosaki yelped. 

“Through the wall!?” Uryuu exclaimed at the same time. They glanced at each other.

“Quit yer bellyachin’!” she snapped, and they quieted. “I’m surprised Yoruichi didn’t say nothin’ about it, but I’ll introduce myself formally now. I’m Shiba Kukaku, Rukongai’s Number One Fireworks Maker!”

Uryuu blinked. So he was right in one respect. That cylinder definitely was some sort of cannon. He swallowed nervously. Could he even survive the explosive force needed to be shot out of something like that, and through such a solid barrier? Kurosaki, the slack jawed moron, didn’t seem to understand.

“Fireworks maker?” Kurosaki asked.

“That’s right!” Kukaku said. She seemed all too happy to not explain anything. She cupped her hands to amplify her (already too loud) voice, and shouted to the ceiling, “Koganehiko, Shiroganehiko, raise it up!”

The ground began to tremble, but not enough to lose his footing. Everyone else held steady as well. His eyes widened in realization. The floor wasn’t just quaking - it was rising. This entire platform was part of the cannon? 

The trembling grew deafening. Kurosaki even cupped his hands over his ears. Was he that sensitive to sound? He didn’t spend much time mulling as the ceiling parted slowly, letting sunlight spill through. Soon, the rumbling stopped, and they were entirely out of the underground. He resisted the urge to rub his ears - the ringing would continue for some time.

“How was that?” Kukaku shouted, grinning. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, don’t shit yer pants yet! The actual launch will be a thousand times worse!” She snickered at her own crude joke. “This here is my own personal fireworks platform! The-”

“The Kakaku Cannon!” Ganju interrupted, and was subsequently punted across the now-overground room.

“Who said you could steal my line!?” she snapped, a fist raised and shaking. Uryuu flinched when she faced the group. “Anyways! So whaddya brats think? Impressed, huh?”

She wasn’t taking it seriously. Any of it. 

“How can you be saying things like that at a time like this?” he questioned. He couldn’t help but tremble a bit under her steely glare. “How do you expect to shoot us through the Seireitei with that and not get us all ki-”

Pain shot through him as his glasses cracked. Something got flung at his face, hard. He stumbled a bit, but maintained his footing. Relieved that he felt no blood dribbling, he took off his glasses and quickly replaced them with a spare in his satchel. Honestly, that woman…!

“What’s this?” Kurosaki asked. He was holding something. A translucent orb with a red insignia inside it. That must be what hit him… he hoped he wouldn’t find any surprise glass shards.

“That’s a reishi orb,” Kukaku explained. “You put reiryoku into it with kido. Try it.”

Kurosaki struggled vainly to do… something. After fruitlessly attacking the ball for a few seconds, his stomach growled loudly. Face tinged pink, he stopped.

“Erm, how do you do that?” he asked weakly. 

“What? Are you serious?” she scoffed. “You don’t know how to do kido? What kind of idiot Shinigami are ya?”

“Kukaku, the boy only recently became a Shinigami,” Yoruichi placated. “It’ll be some time before he learns even the basics. I trust you remember how long it took you to do the same?”

She clicked her tongue in response. Uryuu felt a prickle of embarrassment mixed with dread. If Kurosaki couldn’t do even the bare minimum before the fighting even started, how could he expect him to not just screw the whole mission up? Not that he cared for Kuchiki, far from it. But still...

“Damn, kid, yer starting to make my brother look good here,” she said. She pointed at Ganju, who stiffened at her attention. “Ganju, show him how to do it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” he shouted with gusto, snatching the orb from Kurosaki in a rather aggressive tug. 

With a look of intense concentration, the ball in Ganju’s hands glowed brightly. A stream of steady reiryoku kept it alight, not too much unlike Uryuu’s own attacks. Light blue, the color of reishi. Ganju let out a startling shout, and a thin bubble formed around him. A barrier.

“And that’s…” he said, struggling between breaths. “That’s how it’s done!”

Kukaku stepped out in front of the bubble along with Yoruichi. Ganju sweated profusely despite only holding up the barrier for a few seconds. Uryuu frowned - it must be extremely reiryoku intensive. There was no way he would be able to hold it up on his own.

“As you might’ve guessed, this is the cannonball,” Kukaku explained. “It’s a device I developed that can pierce through the Sekkiseki wall that surrounds the Seireitei. It’ll eat up yer reiryoku before you know it, though. And don’t ask me about the details, ‘cause I know none of you shits’ll know what I’m talking about!”

“H-hey, Sis, I’m dyin’ here, pl-” Ganju gasped out, but was interrupted.

“So! The plan is, you all pour yer reiryoku into the ball to keep up the barrier, you get launched from my Kakaku Cannon, and you tear a hole in the Sekkiseki wall and land safe n’ sound in the Seireitei! Any questions?”

“Uh-”

“Good! Now shut up, and let’s get to practicin’!”

\--

Nightfall was a blessing after the long hours under the oppressive sun. Ichigo had been able to create a barrier like Ganju after many straight hours of practice, though he was hard pressed to call it solid. Even though it had his full concentration, it warped and frayed. But there was no time left - the days were long in the Soul Society, and they had precious few opportunities to make it through under the cover of darkness. Though…

“Yoruichi, didn’t you say this was a stealth mission or something?” he asked, eyes set on the ungodly length of the Kakaku Cannon. This had to be just the furthest thing from stealthy he could imagine.

“You were awake at that time?” the cat said. Their tail flicked to cover their paws. “I wanted to avoid preemptive discovery. Of course, launching ourselves in such a spectacular way will be noticed. Even so, our enemies will be less prepared to deal with us than they would’ve been otherwise.”

“Right, then,” Ichigo sighed. Yoruichi stopped paying him attention and instead turned to address the group.

“Everyone ready? Do you all know what to do, exactly?” Yoruichi announced. The group nodded. “Good - we don’t have time to go over the plan again. Kukaku!”

“Don’t have to say it twice,” Kukaku said. She clapped her hands once, and a hole swirled open in the Cannon. Ichigo’s chest ached a bit. “Into the Cannon, kiddies! And Ganju, Dandelion, don’t screw it up!”

They were ushered into the hole, including Ganju. Inside the Cannon was surprisingly spacious, though they were shoulder to shoulder with Chad there. With them all being so close… All their scents mixed into some strange fusion, complimenting each other and yet not at all. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t awful either. Yoruichi’s suppressed sweetness still overpowered the rest of them combined, though.

“Listen, under no circumstances can we be separated,” the cat said. “If we encounter a captain, flee immediately and rendezvous. Our mission is the rescue of Kuchiki Rukia. Do not allow yourselves to be distracted from this goal for even a moment!” The hole closed, and they were cloaked in full darkness, though Ichigo could see tiny blue flames from inside his friends. “Upon my signal, the cannon will fire. Are you all ready, fully and completely?”

Tense nods from everyone. 

“Then, pour your reiryoku into the orb!” Yoruichi commanded. “KUKAKU! BEGIN!”

They placed their hands onto the orb, and their reiatsu flowed smoothly into it. Except Ichigo’s. He did as he had practiced, picturing a space within him to be filled, but his power sparked violently. The barrier yet still formed, powered by their efforts, but it wavered visibly. It was unstable. It wouldn’t last.

There was no time to correct it. Before he knew it, they and the barrier were thrust far into the sky. He didn’t feel the lift off, the blast. The world outside the barrier was muted and nothing. It was only now that he noticed there were no stars in this night sky.

Hand still on the orb, Ganju pulled a crumpled scroll from his pack. It unfurled, and its length nearly hit the ‘floor’ of the barrier. Without wasting any time explaining his actions, he began to read off the scroll. An incantation, though its words meant nothing to Ichigo. The world shifted, and they began hurtling towards what he could only assume to be the Seireitei.

“Don’t distract him, I’ll explain,” Yoruichi said, planted firmly on top of the orb. Ganju took his hand from it and concentrated wholly on reading the incantation. “All of you need to equalize the output of your reiryoku to each others’ levels. There must not be any deviation when we make contact with the wall, or the barrier will be negated and our efforts wasted. That means you, boy.” The cat glared at him.

“Huh?”

“Lower your output, and stabilize it. The others cannot match your level.”

“Just that easy, huh?”

It wasn’t that easy. He pulled at the space in his mind, to siphon away the power he had been pouring in. He tightened it, gripped it. It writhed and gnashed against him. The dam cracked. 

“Kurosaki!” Inoue cried. Her output was weak, a lot weaker than his. He reined in further, holding down the flow as much as he could.

“Kurosaki, what are you doing!?” Ishida yelled. They were closing in on the Seireitei. “That’s way too much!”

“Ichigo!” Chad said. More cracks formed in the dam. He squeezed. The barrier wavered more. 

“No choice! Everyone, exert as much as you can! Brace for impact!” Yoruichi commanded.

The barrier _struck_. The impact was immediate. It rattled through him, shaking his entire body. If he had dared to speak, the force would have cut his tongue off. And yet he still held onto the orb, along with everyone else. Their reiatsu spiked harshly, almost matching his own in his suppressed state. But they weren’t moving. The barrier struggled against the shield of the Seireitei, threatening to break in its own weight. He had no choice; He released his hold on the dam.

“Kurosa-!”

His vision filled with bright blue, then nothing. A high pitched squeal was all he could hear. But he was dimly aware, as he felt the wind rushing against him, that he was hurtling towards the ground. He couldn’t move, couldn’t open his eyes - the wind was too strong. 

Then he felt paws land on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very much action in this one, huh? Don't worry, it'll really start up in the next one


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is a little shorter than the other ones. I'll try to do better next time! Please enjoy.

Under the cloak of night, Uryuu, Kurosaki, and Yoruichi had yet to be discovered by the hundreds of Shinigami roaming the streets below. The group had been separated in the barrier’s blast, and since then, Kurosaki had been incapacitated. The sound of a wooden alarm filled the air, which, according to Yoruichi, meant that the Seireitei was under the state of emergency. It would only be so long before they were found.

They ran across the rooftops, Kurosaki on his back. The bastard was heavier than he looked, and would often shift about and mumble something. He hadn’t had time to see his condition, only to keep running. Yoruichi hadn’t specified their destination, but it was most likely where Kuchiki was kept. They kept talking to a minimum as well.

How did Yoruichi know so much about the Soul Society? It was almost as if the cat knew the exact layout. Even before they arrived, Yoruichi knew everything ahead of time. Of course, they were connected to Urahara, who was a suspicious character in his own right. Perhaps a pet of a Shinigami? Or a spirit beyond the Shinigami?

Or perhaps not even a cat at all?

He shook his head. It was no time to be suspicious, especially of one that had helped them so much. No doubt the cat had ulterior motives, but as long as their goals at least relatively aligned with his…

Yoruichi suddenly stopped in front of him, toppling him from his feet. Losing his grip, Kurosaki tumbled from his back, and would’ve fallen from the roof if Uryuu hadn’t snatched the cuff of his shihakusho. Relief washed over him as the scene didn’t attract any attention from the patrols below.

“Yoruichi!” Uryuu hissed, dragging Kurosaki’s limp body up the tiles of the roof to rest on the flattened part. “Don’t stop like that! I almost fell off the roof!”

“Quiet, boy,” Yoruichi whispered. “The sun will rise soon - we need to find cover and tend to Ichigo. There cannot be any dead weight when we approach Kuchiki’s holding cell. I would much rather reunite with the others, but the less time given to the enemy to prepare, the better.”

The cat took off once more before he could respond, leaving him to hoist Kurosaki onto his back. Following a black cat in the deep of night was not the simplest of tasks, even if he could track their reiatsu. Especially when the cat suppressed theirs, and Kurosaki’s own overwhelmed almost everything else. It was a wonder that they had remained hidden for so long with the idiot practically acting as a beacon.

With Kurosaki secured in place, he leapt after the cat, rooftop to rooftop. He hadn’t had a break since he arrived, and it was catching up to him. His breath grew steadily ragged with each jump, and he began lagging behind. 

“Salty…”

He stifled a yelp as Kurosaki mumbled into his shoulder, but evidently not completely. Yells from below sounded, and the wooden alarm began again with a renewed vigor. If he hadn’t had his hands full, he would’ve slapped himself for his own stupidity. He was in no shape to flee or fight. 

“Look what I found~!”

A flash. Instinctually, he dodged, but the extra weight on his back left him unbalanced. Another flash and dodge - he stumbled and dropped Kurosaki, but caught him before he could fall all the way. Still, he dangled from the edge like a ragdoll, his only support being Uryuu’s hand.

“That’s some impressive reflexes, kid,” a voice drawled playfully from above. “Dodgin’ my attack twice ain’t a feat many achieve.”

The air grew heavy, and his breath stuck in his lungs. He didn’t dare look. He couldn’t. He was frozen in place, and his palms grew slick. His grip was slipping. Whatever was up there was a _monster_. There was no way, no way, no way something like _that_ could be beaten. 

“But, y’see, I might lose my credibility as a captain if I let ’cha get away,” it continued. It was getting closer. He couldn’t move. “So, could ya do me a favor and die?”

He couldn’t breathe, the air was too thick. He was going to die he was going to die he was going to-

“RUN, BOY!”

Before he could process it, a flash of black threw him off the building, right before it shattered. As it crumbled before him, the onlooker Shinigami fled the scene. The heavy reiatsu that weighed on him lifted slightly as it focused on the cat instead.

“STOP LAYING ABOUT AND GO!” Yoruichi screamed, and dodged another flash of an attack. “I’LL FIND YOU! JUST RUN!”

Feeling returned to his body, and he was flooded with pain. Something hot pooled and dribbled down his torso. It was so hard to breathe. He looked down. His chest - it was stained deep crimson. The fabric was torn.

“A talking cat, hm?” the monster said. “Oh my, y’know…”

He struggled to his feet, his legs shaking like a new-born deer. The blood poured thickly as the wound opened further. His head was light, but he bent to pick up Kurosaki’s still-limp body.

“Soi-Fon was lookin’ for ya.”

\--

Hidden in the darkness of what looked to be a storage shed, Uryuu had stopped the bleeding. Luckily, he had prepared bandages and cauterizing medicine. Carrying Kurosaki had taken its toll, however, as during his short journey, the wound constantly kept reopening. Surviving the encounter had overshadowed any thought of covering his tracks though, so he was sure the blood trail he left would lead pursuers directly to him. Still, he lost a lot of blood. The wound was deep, but not enough to cause internal injury. So, he opted to rest. 

Yoruichi… Somehow, he knew the cat would survive. Be it by simply fleeing or outmaneuvering the captain, the cat would live. Yoruichi was hiding something, and he had no doubt that they would use that something to get by. 

“You stink, Ishida,” Kurosaki croaked out, abruptly ending the train of thought. His heart jumped to his throat for a brief moment before he calmed down.

“Kurosaki!” he exclaimed, before bubbling anger overtook him. “Kurosaki, what the hell! You- you collapsed again, you idiot! You had all this time to get that ‘training injury’ healed, and you didn’t! And because of that, Yoruichi had to fight in your place!”

“Ishida-”

“And, because of you, the barrier exploded, separating all of us!” he ranted. “Inoue and Sado could be dead for all we know!”

Kurosaki didn’t respond. Uryuu didn’t care. This idiot really…! He would’ve left him behind if his power wasn’t needed. His nails dug into his hand, and Kurosaki didn’t meet his stare.

“Ishida, I haven’t told the truth,” he began slowly, as if carefully choosing his words. “It’s… not a-”

The door creaked. Loudly. Immediately, Uryuu dropped his anger in favor of being on guard. He whipped his head to face the entrance of the shed - and regretted it as his head swam. A Shinigami stood in the doorway, frozen in place.

“Um, I-I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” the boy stammered out, smiling awkwardly. “I- uh, I heard yelling, I thought…” The boy’s eyes widened considerably in an almost comedic fashion. With a shaking hand, he pointed at the pair. “Um, you two, you wouldn’t… happen to be… the ryoka, would you?”

When he didn’t receive a response, he laughed nervously and scratched the side of his head. He started walking backwards, but Kurosaki leapt to his feet and threw the boy into the shed, locking the door behind him. The boy collided loudly with some stacked boxes, toppling them. He cried out in surprise, but Uryuu silenced him with a palm over the mouth.

“Keep it down!” he snapped, and lifted his hand away. The boy nodded vigorously, eyes blown wide.

Kurosaki knelt to see him at eye level, and placed a hand on his zanpakuto’s hilt. The boy whimpered in fear. He didn’t seem to be even the slightest threat, but they couldn’t afford to take chances.

“What should we do with him?” he asked. “It’s not like we have a way of tying him up or something, or keeping him from squealing to his boss.”

“Don’t let the enemy hear that, idiot,” Uryuu admonished. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Let’s ask him some questions. From the way he’s been acting, I doubt he’ll fight back.”

Kurosaki nodded and unsealed his zanpakuto, putting the edge to the boy’s throat. It was too delicate to actually hurt him in any way, but a show of force nevertheless.

“Eh? Eh!?” the boy cried out. “Wait- don’t hurt me! I’ll answer everything!”

“Have you seen a talking black cat around here?” Uryuu began.

“Eh!? Talking cat? What do you mean?”

The blade inched slightly closer. In a panic, he shrieked, “I-I really don’t know! I’m sorry!”

Kurosaki and Uryuu shared a glance. Was this really a Shinigami…?

“Right then,” Uryuu sighed. The blade backed off a bit, and the boy visibly relaxed.

“Then, do you know where Rukia is being held?” Kurosaki asked.

His demeanor completely shifted. A look of sad determination replaced the previously pathetic one.

“Do you… mean Kuchiki Rukia?” the boy asked, tone hardened. Or, at least, as hardened as it could be with a soft voice like his. “She… I heard they were going to move her to the Shrine of Penitence.”

Clearly, with the way the last sentence was said, there was a negative connotation with the Shrine of Penitence. A maximum security prison, perhaps? Was the crime that Kuchiki committed really so terrible that she deserved such treatment? He nodded to prompt the kid to continue.

“She’s in the 6th squad’s holding cell right now,” he said. “I clean the cells there, you see! And-... and, why do you want to know?”

“What’s the Shrine of Penitence?” Uryuu asked, ignoring his question.

The determination turned to discomfort. The boy didn’t look him in the eyes when he answered.

“It’s where death row inmates are kept.”

\--

If hunger didn’t gnaw through his every pore, through his flesh and bones, he would have reacted much more strongly. 

_Death row_.

They were going to _kill_ Rukia. _Kill_ her, slice her, maul her-

For what? For giving her power to him? For such a petty crime? How **dare** they? How dare they, how dare they, **HOW DARE THEY?**

He felt a growl rise in his throat, but he suppressed it. He wanted to tear his hair from his skull - the **sweetness** was **TOO MUCH**. The _**SWEET**_ soul in front of him kept talking, though what it said was hard to hear. 

“U-um, please, you-you’re going to cut me!” it squeaked. It was shaking like a leaf. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Just a bit closer. Scare it a little more. And-

His arm was stopped - and he snapped back to reality. It was Ishida, his hand stiffly holding him in place. He looked to Zangetsu. It was centimeters away from the boy’s throat.

He jumped back, eyes wide. What the hell was he about to do? His grip on Zangetsu faltered. It made a loud clatter when it dropped to the floor. Ishida stared at him, not even bothering to hide his concern **and fear**. A look of ‘we WILL talk about this later’ was shared between the two before Ishida turned back to the boy, who was still shivering on the floor and rubbing his neck.

“So, Kuchiki is still at the 6th squad holding cell, then?” Ishida continued, as if nothing happened. His act wasn’t the most convincing though, he wore his worry on his sleeve. 

The boy nodded shakily. “Y-yes, she isn’t due to be moved for at least a w-week,” he said, not taking his eyes off Ichigo. “Um, can I go, please?”

“Not yet,” Ishida said. “Where exactly is the holding cell?”

“Eh? You don’t…?” he said, confusion overriding his fear for a brief moment. “Oh, right. Ryoka. We’re very close by. If- if I take you there, will you let me go?” He bowed his head frantically. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! I promise! Really!”

Ishida sighed and let the boy climb to his feet. He brushed the dust from his shihakusho and smiled nervously. He flinched when Ichigo bent to pick up Zangetsu, but otherwise made no moves.

“Is it alright if I ask what you want to do with Rukia, first?” he asked tentatively. 

Before Ishida could answer, Ichigo stood up straight. 

“I will save her,” he said without a hint of hesitation.

For the first time since he threw the boy into the shed, their eyes met. Such a determined expression did not fit well on his pitiful features, but still the boy wore it. Recognition flashed through his eyes, and the sweetness he exuded swelled to fill the room.

“You… are you Kurosaki Ichigo?”

\--

Yoruichi did not take her eyes from her target. This snake of a man, Ichimaru Gin. It was all she could do to buy time for the children to escape, no telling of her own chances. Any time he wanted, she could be dead at his feet, and yet, he let her dodge every strike. Like he was playing with her.

“Aw, damn, they escaped,” he said in a carefree manner. He had a permanent smile etched into his face. “Now I’ll get scolded. That’s really too bad.”

His voice grated heavily on her. Nothing but the hissing of snakes. 

A tiny disturbance in the wind was the only warning she got before the edge of his zanpakuto shot headlong between her eyes. With shunpo, she leapt high into the air to dodge, but he effortlessly caught up. A cat’s body was not ideal for this.

“Y’know, it’s almost insultin’, fightin’ a cat,” he said, tinged with a mocking edge. “Maybe you should take this a little more serious, or else ya might die.”

She grit her teeth and dodged another halfhearted slice. Even if she did shift back, she doubted her chances would be much higher. She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, searching for reiatsu. There - why were they still so close by!?

There was no time to mull her options. Gin would get bored eventually and finish her off, then hunt down the others. The best she could do now was delay him. Without fanfare, she shifted to her human form, standing on nothing but the air. Gin whistled loudly.

“Rangiku’s got some competition!” he cat-called. She glared fiercely. “Ah, such a scary expression!”

She smirked a bit. “You may be fast, but you’re outmatched here,” she taunted. A bluff. Just keep him distracted.

“You’re right,” he said. “After all, I’m up against the ‘Goddess of Flash’, aren’t I?”

She didn’t let her eyes stray. His expression didn’t shift in the slightest. He would strike the moment she tensed to flee. Perhaps he wouldn’t even give chase. He would go after Ichigo, and his beacon of a reiatsu. There was no way to fight back - she had no weapons on her. Kido would do nothing against him. No choice.

His smirk deepened, and she tensed. Without any warning, the edge of his zanpakuto missed her head by centimeters, sending cut hair flying. She didn’t allow herself to fear - she stomped the urge to flinch. Instead, she sprinted directly at him, and flashed away from sight. Behind him, she raised a leg to strike - but was blocked by a single palm. 

She struggled in place. He held her by the ankle, with enough force to feel it under threat of snapping. She kicked him violently with her free leg, but it was like kicking steel. His smile grew dangerous.

“Such a shame, y’know,” he drawled, lifting his zanpakuto slowly. A fox stalking a mouse, its maw around her throat. “A butterfly ain’t so pretty with their wings torn off.”

Her eyes widened. He wasn’t going to kill her. He was going to-

The wind sang as the sound of rushing steel met flesh. Her legs - she couldn’t feel her legs. He let go of her ankle and watched as she dropped to hit the roof of a building. She felt the blood flowing without pause, but they were numb. She dared to look.

Along her legs were several precise cuts. Her legs were useless - the muscles were fully cut. She couldn’t heal without eating. Immobile and her main defense destroyed, she was dead in the water. She could only wait for the killing blow.

If only she could have bought more time for the kids...

“Now that’s just sad,” Gin quipped, wiping the blood from his blade. “I can’t bring myself to kill such a pitiful target. Guess ya get to live another day, kitty!” 

He waved cheerfully and vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi might be a bit weaker than she is in canon. But then again, it was Gin she was up against. 
> 
> Also you can probably tell which ship it's going to be eheheh...
> 
> I spent a long time thinking, would it be better if I did this in Ichigo or Ishida's perspective? So I weighed it and decided, it would probably not be very interesting if it was just another rehash of the other chapter. No he's not passed out, I think he's just delirious; Hollows at pre-Gillian stage are basically animals. But he'll get better soon! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this took a while. My classes are starting tomorrow, so updates are probably going to be a lot slower from here on out. I apologize in advance. Please tell me if this chapter is not to your liking.

“You… are you Kurosaki Ichigo?”

When Ichigo didn’t answer right away, the boy frantically waved his arms about as if to placate any suspicions. In a way, it did work. He went from being on guard to just being confused.

“How do you know my name?” he asked. There was no way a kid like this could be a spy. Though probably assuming that he was just a kid would be a mistake. After all, Rukia was a shorty, too.

“I was right!?” the boy exclaimed, then caught himself. “Um, well, Ms. Rukia. I mean, Rukia would always talk about some amazing person named Kurosaki Ichigo.” He laughed nervously and failed to meet Ichigo’s eyes. “The- the way you said that you’d save her, it just really reminded me of how she would describe that person.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened. Is that what she thought of him? Still upholding that image? The one he ruined when he let her slip through his fingers, to become a prisoner, to… 

Out of the corner of his eyes, the boy bowed deeply.

“Um! My name is Yamada Hanataro!” he said, not lifting his head. “7th seat of the 4th division! Pl-pleased to be your acquaintance!”

“Uh, right back at you,” Ichigo said noncommittally. 

The guy was polite, if nothing else. And, he knew Rukia. Pretty closely too, from the way he spoke about her. But, he seemed weak. How much help could he possibly be if he made this little of an impression? Wait - help?

“Why are you introducing yourself to an enemy?” he asked. Either this kid was just that gullible or…

Hantaro stood up from his bow, and awkwardly shifted in place.

“I don’t think anyone who wants to save Rukia is an enemy,” he mumbled. “I-”

“Kurosaki! Yamada!” Ishida interrupted. Fear rolled off him in waves. “Something happened to Yoruichi!”

He was right. Yoruichi’s suppressed yet ever present sweetness was… gone. Not entirely. What… happened? Was there a fight? Ishida had said something about the cat having to take his place. 

His stomach dropped.

_Was someone dead because of him?_

There was an ounce of rage still left in the fear that Ishida emitted. At him, most likely. How could he have let yet another person take punishment in his place? And Inoue and Chad - he couldn’t smell them anywhere either. Were they dead too? 

“Um… Is Yoruichi one of your ryoka friends? Is he injured?” Hanataro asked. “I did notice a strong reiatsu disappear nearby… If- if he’s alive, I can heal him!”

Heal? Like Inoue. His eyes flashed to Ishida. There was a covered crimson stain that blotted the whiteness of his outfit. He must have gotten injured when Ichigo was out of it.

Ishida caught his gaze and shook his head. Focus on Yoruichi, then. 

“Kurosaki, I know how inadequate your sensing is, but you’re the only one able enough right now to retrieve him,” Ishida said, voice tinted with urgency. Ignoring Hanataro’s minute protests, Ichigo nodded.

“Um, it’s not advisable to move an injured person unless you can a-administer immediate care,” Hanataro said quietly. “I should come with so… that…” He trailed off when he realized no one paid attention.

“Yoruichi is a cat, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Ichigo responded, though was already opening the door to the shed to leave. “Be back in a bit.”

\--

He knew from the moment the blinding sun of dawn assaulted his vision that this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought. Not only did every **horribly sweet** smell of the Soul Society merge together into a single concoction, effectively disguising Yoruichi’s fainter scent, he would as well have to deal with all the patrols that were likely to show up during the morning. It wasn’t as if he was adept at stealth - far from it. Finding such a small body that could quite literally be anywhere was akin to finding a needle in a haystack.

Ishida did sense it pretty strongly. And the scent was strong earlier as well. So that means they were at least somewhat close by. He wasn’t exactly sure how far Ishida dragged him, but…

A salty scent wafted through the air. It surrounded him, but led almost like a trail. But the only one he’s met so far like that was Ishida, and he was in the shed. So then, why…?

_Splash_

He stepped in something. Something that strongly, so strongly smelled of that same **saltiness**. He looked down - **_blood_**. Ishida’s blood. It was nearly coagulated, yet still was fresh enough to splatter. 

**Hunger** wracked through his body. He resisted the urge to **taste** it. He gripped his arm as hard as he could, nails digging into his flesh. The sharp pain stopped him from doing something he would regret. Still, a drop of saliva escaped his mouth.

This scent was so **_intoxicating._**

This **blood** trail would be the best bet he had to find the cat. He may have been out of it, but still he remembered where they split paths. The roofs… They had been running across the roofs. Chances are, the cat would be on a roof somewhere **sliced open and bleeding and roiling in its own putrid flesh and**

He shook his head. What was _wrong_ with him?

The sun grew brighter as it rose. He didn’t have much time to waste - everyone would be out and about soon. Just follow the **salty** trail. And so, he did. He retraced the way Ishida dragged himself, forcing himself to look away from the scattered puddles. Soon enough, almost in a daze, Yoruichi’s familiar sweetness wafted from above. He was right - they were on the roof.

Something trickling, sickly, sickly **sweet**. Still wet. His stomach dropped. **More blood**. Dribbling down the tiles of the roof, splattering on the ground. It was fresh.

He leapt onto the roof and saw- saw a woman, naked as the day she was born, covered in **gashes** all along her legs. This **sweet** smell was **definitely the cat**. **Definitely definitely definitely**. His mouth watered. 

That _**scent**._ It was **_CALLING_** to him. Just one **bite**. **No.** The **whole thing.** It was so **close** , he was **so _hungry_** , **he was _starving_** , and there was this **meal** set out, just for **him.**

**ALL FOR HIM. ALL FOR HIM.**

“Ichigo, calm down,” the shivering lamb spoke. He didn’t care. “Why isn’t Uryuu with you? You shouldn’t go around alone in your condition.”

There was something forming on his face. He didn’t care. All he saw was that there was **FINALLY SOMETHING TO EAT, something to sink his teeth into, FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY**

“Tch, guess you can’t hear me now,” the **sweet** thing said. Like an assortment of ripened cherries. The scent was **unbearable** , he **NEEDED to tear it apart**. “I told Kisuke that it wasn’t a good idea to send you to the Soul Society, especially on such short notice.”

The **prey** was immobile. So much **sweetness** flowing from its legs. He reached and grabbed its crushed ankle, and it let out an undignified squeak of pain. With one tug, he pulled the prey close. 

“It’s up to me to snap you out of it, huh?” it said. 

Without warning, he was thrown against the tiles. Momentarily dazed, he struggled to jump back to his feet - but a strong grip was held on his mask. **Stupid prey**. He growled. **The stupid prey WOULDN’T LET GO LET GO LET GO**

It dragged his face lower, lower to the ground. It was **tearing, ripping HIM APART**. He parted his lips to let out a roar. 

**HE. WAS. SPLITTING. IN. TWO**

“Just a bit more, calm down!”

The pain abruptly ended as his mask tore from his face. The blackness that tinted the edges of his vision swept away, blotted out by the light of the sun. He collapsed. His face felt so… naked.

“That hurt, Ichigo,” an unfamiliar, feminine voice said. 

He turned to see - a woman, dark skinned and lacking any clothes to speak of. In a moment of shame, he almost turned away, but noticed several cuts along her legs. They were bleeding profusely, like they had just been reopened. His hands were slick yet sticky - they were covered in blood as well. But it wasn’t his.

“Did I… do that to you?” he asked slowly. He didn’t want to hear the response.

“No,” she said. A tiny grin (or maybe a grimace?) formed. “You couldn’t cut me with skills like yours in a thousand years, kid.”

He couldn’t look away from his hands. Why were they covered in _her_ blood? Disgust overwhelmed him as pangs of hunger toiled within at the sight of it.

“What was I doing?” he asked. The hole in his chest ached.

“You were becoming a Hollow, but I stopped it,” she responded bluntly. She picked up a mask that lay nearby - the one that fell from his face. “See? But we should really get out of here. What you did will attract a lot of attention, throwing that much Hollow reiatsu around.”

Becoming a… He really was becoming a Hollow. He stared at his bloody hands, their slick coating rapidly drying. 

“O-one more thing,” he began faintly, a slight stutter slipping through. “Are you Yoruichi?”

The woman blinked and looked at him thoughtfully. 

“Out of everyone, I thought you were the least likely to guess it,” Yoruichi said, the smile transforming into a playful grin. “How’d you figure it out?”

Ichigo glanced away, slightly abashed. 

“You, ah… smell the same.”

“Smell?” she concentrated for a moment, her mind working. “So it’s true! Hollows can smell reiatsu, is it? No wonder they are so quick to find anyone with it.”

He winced at the implication. To become the enemy, the very thing that killed his… He knocked a fist against his head. Don’t think about that.

“But really, Ichigo, this isn’t the place to have a conversation,” she said more quietly. “I can’t walk on my own right now. Take me to where you and Uryuu have been hiding out, and we can formulate a new plan there.”

“Uh, right,” he said. It wasn’t that lifting her would be difficult - she probably weighed no more than his zanpakuto - but…

“Are you hesitating ‘cause I’m a naked woman?” she purred.

“O-obviously! I can’t just- you know how weird- gah!” he protested, face beat red. She had a nice figure and all, but he couldn’t think of her that way. Couldn’t afford to, anyways. She belly-laughed at his fumbling.

“I’m only messing with you, just give me a moment,” she chuckled. Unceremoniously, she transformed into the black cat he knew. Her limbs were awkwardly bent, unchanged from her position as a human. “Alright, go ahead now, and be gentle!”

“Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled, but gently picked up the cat anyways. He took care to not touch the hind legs, as the wounds had only recently stopped bleeding. Though, having them sway about as he ran wouldn’t be ideal either. So instead, he held her belly-up and close to his chest. Compact and safe. Thankfully, Yoruichi didn’t comment about it.

All he had to do was follow the **blood** trail back to Ishida. He shook his head to clear any remaining thoughts of… _that_. The salty scent fortunately stood out clearly against the rest of them, so it would only be a matter of not getting caught by the now-waking Shinigami. Running across the rooftops would make that a lot easier. He nodded at his own plan and took off.

Yoruichi didn’t say anything as he hopped from building to building. Her wounds opened slightly though, and trickled onto the hands holding her. Fur was easier to grip than skin, so it wasn’t an issue. He willfully ignored the sweetness.

The sun was way too bright.

Soon enough, after a rather uneventful and short sprint, they landed in front of the storage shed. He kicked at the door, his hands full. 

“Oi! Let me in!” he called. A bit of scuffling inside, and the door creaked open to reveal Hanataro. Unfortunately for him, Ichigo kicked it open and sent the kid flying. “Oops. Dumb place to stand.”

“Yoruichi!” Ishida said the moment he laid eyes on the cat. “Your legs… What happened?”

“They’re cut through, so I cannot move on my own,” Yoruichi said. The atmosphere turned colder as she spoke. “That was the power of a captain. He was only toying with me, as well. Though I doubt that man would work with others, I hope you realize the true danger of this mission now.”

Ishida nodded gravely. 

That heavy artificial sweetness, of candy and sugar that would rot the tooth. That presence from earlier that threatened to crush him from the outside in. That was a captain just _playing_.

“Ow ow…” came a voice from some knocked over boxes in the back of the room. Hanataro. He popped out from underneath and gave a staggered bow. “Y-you must be Mr. Yoruichi! Pleased to meet you!”

Yoruichi gave him a quick once over. “A member of the 4th division? How convenient. Perhaps a change in plans won’t be necessary after all.”

“Eh? Yoruichi, how did you know that?” Ichigo asked.

“The sash,” she said matter-of-factly, pointing a paw at the blue cloth draped across Hanataro. “Boy, heal me. Some food would be better, but we don’t have chefs on hand.” She chuckled weakly.

“Yes, sir!”

\--

To say Orihime was lost would be the understatement of the century. Ever since she separated from everyone else, she’s been wandering in circles. This place was a maze! So many dead ends, and all the walls and floors looked the same too. Except, unlike other mazes, this one wasn’t much fun to solve.

Not that she was thinking negatively! But… she didn’t know the first place to look. She couldn’t begin to guess where Kuchiki was being held. Wandering around the whole of last night left her fighting the urge to sleep for a while now.

At least when she concentrated, she could see the shining reiatsu of her friends. They were all pretty far, and always on the move. Sado’s bright light was always next to a comparatively dimmer one - his name slipped her mind (Ganzo?). They were constantly crowded by tons of other reiatsus, but it didn’t seem to bother them. 

Kurosaki’s shone especially bright, like a burning star. But it wasn’t always bright. Sometimes it flickered out, replaced with a dark and violent flame. If she wasn’t 100% sure that it was Kurosaki, she might have mistaken it for a Hollow.

Yoruichi was near him too, along with Ishida. When his reiatsu dropped so suddenly, her heart fell along with it. But now she could see it, when she focused hard. It was so weak...

She lightly slapped herself on both cheeks. Think positive! So far, she hadn’t been spotted. And she wasn’t about to let that change! She concentrated, searching for Kuchiki’s flame. 

Nothing.

It was as if Kuchiki wasn’t there at all. The dancing flame that she knew only for a few brief weeks was nowhere to be found. She chewed her lip. There was no way they were too late. There was no way Kuchiki could just die like that. 

“What do we have here, huh?”

She jumped - she got caught. From the roof across from her hopped down two men. One bald, and the other… fashionable? The bald one stomped up close, looking her over. She gulped nervously.

“What strange clothes…” the one with the weird eyelash accessory said. “She’s obviously a ryoka.”

A ryoka? The scary bald one wouldn’t stop glaring. She was up against a wall, any idea of escape cut off. Their reiatsus were enormous, hostile and honed to a point… these were real Shinigami. Both of them had yet to draw their swords, thankfully.

“She doesn’t look worth fighting,” the bald one said disappointedly, finally lifting his gaze. She inadvertently let out a sigh of relief, until she heard what he said next. “Yumichika, she’s all yours.”

“What am I, a dog waiting for table scraps?” the other one (Yumichika?) argued. “You found her, you deal with her!”

“I don’t fight weaklings!” the bald one said. Good, they were focused on each other instead of her. “What’s the fun in a fight where your victory is absolute?”

As their scuffle continued, she slunk away. Or rather, tried to. She only made it four steps before she was grabbed by the collar of her shirt and pulled back. The bald one glared even more fiercely at her.

“So, ryoka, come with anyone else?” he interrogated. “Someone stronger?”

“And why come here without a weapon?” Yumichika added on. “Are you as empty headed as you look?”

“Um…” she began. They waited impatiently for her to continue, with the bald one’s foot tapping obnoxiously. She steeled herself. “I- I came alone.”

“We aren’t as stupid as you are, girl,” Yumichika scoffed. “The light that you arrived in split into three. That means there’s at least two other ryoka. Lie again and I’ll cut off that pretty head of yours.”

He took out his sword, slowly and deliberately, and pointed the edge at her throat. His expression was completely blank, uncaring. The fear finally set in, rooting her in place. There wasn’t anyone to save her. No one would even know if she died. She was alone.

“Let’s try again,” he said, as if this was just the usual for him. “Where are the other ryoka you came here with?”

“And are they stronger than you?” the other one piped up, though clear disinterest painted his face.

The blade now touched her throat, gently slicing apart the thin skin. Blood trickled to her collarbone, staining her shirt. Strangely, though it stung, she was numb. Paralysis gripped her.

“She isn’t answering,” the bald one remarked.

“No, please, tell me more of the obvious,” Yumichika responded. “Should I just dispose of her?”

“That’d be one less ryoka to deal with, so go ahead. I’m going to look for the other ones.”

“See you there, Ikkaku.”

With such a flippant tone, he had decided her fate. Like choosing what clothes to put on in the morning. Her life was nothing more than a coin flip to these people.

His blade was already on her throat, cutting in. All it would take was a flick of the wrist. She squeezed her eyes shut. Kurosaki. Sado. Yoruichi. Ishida. 

_Someone, please. Someone save me_.

But no one came.

No one was here to save her.

Time slowed as the blade dug deeper. Millimeter by millimeter. 

Images flashed before her eyes. Of life before. Brother. School. Kurosaki. Chizuru. And- 

_Promise you’ll come home safe, Orihime_.

Tatsuki.

The sword pulled from her neck in an instant, as if spurned. Light swelled throughout the area, glowing from her hairpins. Shun Shun Rikka. Blood seeped profusely from the cut. She couldn’t think properly - her mind was clouded. But now, she had a chance. 

She threw her arms out at the burning reiatsu ahead. Yumichika took a wary step back, but it was too late.

“KOTEN ZANSHUN!” she screamed hoarsely, blood spattering across the floor below her. “I REJECT!”

Tsubaki tore through the air, leaving behind a streak of light and the whistling wind. Her will to defeat the enemy. To save Kuchiki.

To return home.

The sound of something solid hitting the floor reached her ears, followed by fluid splattering. Then, the indignant screech of her enemy.

“MY ARM!!” he yelled, cupping the stump. “MY ARM! YOU BITCH, YOU CUT OFF MY ARM!”

Tsubaki returned to her side, ready to strike again. She wasn’t getting enough air. Her head became more and more light as the wound in her neck opened further. She wouldn’t last much longer, and she knew deep down that if she collapsed now, she would never wake up again.

Her breath turned ragged as Yumichika picked up the dropped sword with his other hand. Murder was burning in his eyes. 

“I was going to kill you quick, but not anymore!” he spat. “No matter how pretty a face you’ve got, I’ll slice it to pieces! Bloom, Fujikujaku!” 

The sword in his hands glowed brightly, and its blade slowly split into four. The reiatsu he had been emitting before was nothing compared to this. Violent. Hateful. It writhed about, curling around her limbs and her throat. She wouldn’t get a shot like that again.

“S-soten Kisshun! I reject!” she called weakly. 

Despite Yumichika’s words, he still jumped back, but no attack came for him. Instead, two faeries flew out from her hairpin. Sensing the urgency of the situation, they didn’t question her. They formed a bright barrier of light around her neck. The bleeding stopped immediately, and some of the blood even flowed back in.

Her senses came back, and just in time. Yumichika wasted no time, rushing directly at her. Though his run was staggered, he was in her face in seconds. His sword poised to strike -

“Santen Kisshun! I reject!” she cried. His fanned sword struck heavily at the barrier that formed. Surprisingly, the barrier held. But, the raw power behind that strike - he aimed to kill.

A second slash against the barrier was all it took to shatter it, though she already ran a ways away. The hateful reiatsu smothered her. He did not slow despite the blood spurting from his stump like a faucet. If anything, he was even faster. If she had time to think, guilt would have overwhelmed her for what she did. But as long as she didn’t think about it...

He was not invincible. He could be defeated. That was the mantra running through her mind.

He was on her heels in an instant, almost disappearing from view with his speed. Before she could shout again, he took the opportunity to attack.

Pain wracked her body as blood spurted from her shoulder. The same side of his own cut arm. He dug in the points of the blade and sliced upwards. 

She screamed and fell to the floor, clutching the wound. “S-Santen Kesshun! I reject!” 

He expected the barrier this time, and sidestepped it - 

“Koten Zanshun! I reject!” 

The streak of light barely missed his heart as he leaped away, but his blade clattered to the floor along with…

He let out a screech.

“YOU-! YOU!” he shouted. On the floor next to his fanned katana were his finger and thumb. He stared at them. Words couldn’t form in his mouth.

Finally, he backed off. In his eyes, beside the hate was fear. Fear of her. She shook her head. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“A-are you done!?” she yelled. An icy hand gripped her heart. “If… If you stop, if you really promise to stop, I can heal you!”

He looked at her. The blood loss was finally getting to him. His eyes dulled, and he didn’t respond. He collapsed at her feet.

She panted heavily, and relief washed over her like a tidal wave. It was short lived.

The reality of what she had done seeped in. She cut another person. Even though it was an enemy, she cut his arm off. She caused this pain. She almost killed another person. It was the heat of the moment. If she was thinking clearly, she would have never done that. 

His arm, just laying there in the dust. She turned to Tsubaki, tears threatening to spill. His only response was to shrug uncaringly.

She had to. There was no other way. People like him wouldn’t listen to what she had to say. If she didn’t hit back, she would have died. 

That’s right. At least she didn’t kill him. He was going to kill her, but she didn’t kill him. It was self defense. And she can just heal him, good as new. So it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s fine. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. IT’S FINE. She did what she had to. 

Still, the guilt lingered. It clawed at her heart even as she convinced herself that what she did was necessary.

“Soten Kisshun, I reject.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta reader didn't like this one much x_x. But I was so exhausted after finishing this that I couldn't rewrite it. I like it just fine, but let me know what you guys think. If you all agree and don't like this chapter, I'll rewrite it. 
> 
> I wanted to change Orihime from canon because I don't like her. She's more independent, but still somewhat a sap. I hope that this change isn't too harsh. Also, I should state that in this fic, all fights will be resolved fairly quickly, because the overly drawn out fights of the anime really get on my nerves. 
> 
> I want to make her badass! She has such potential with Shun Shun Rikka and it was never utilized in canon. I'm really sorry if this is too abrupt of a change.
> 
> Anyways. Ichigo be hungy, he wants to nom on the kitty


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooof sorry. I got slammed with school work literally on the first week. Who does that!? And good lord, those prices - 350 bucks for 1 textbook! But anyways, I'm sorry that it's not longer, but I hope you can enjoy it anyways. Thank you, those who reassured me last chapter. I was afraid of looking at the comments for a while xD but it's fine now!

After only two hours of healing via kido, Hanataro had concluded that Yoruichi wouldn’t be able to run properly for a few days. He had no medical equipment on his person, and it was hard enough already with his rather meager reserves of reiatsu. With the shouting and running around of the patrols outside, there was no way to move locations without getting noticed. The constant banging of a wooden alarm rang through the Seireitei seemed to only grow louder as time passed.

“Kids, change of plans,” Yoruichi said, waving Hanataro off with a paw. “You can’t wait around for me to get healed; there is only a short period before Rukia is moved. The two of you must retrieve her by yourselves.” She pointed her tail at the boy and continued. “We will relocate by the time you come back.”

Ichigo nodded dutifully, but Ishida looked ready to complain. Before he could get his argument out, Yoruichi cut him off.

“I understand that this goes against what I warned, but there is hardly a choice,” she said, her eyes taking on a somber light. “If we’re too late, getting through to the Shrine of Penitence will be an almost impossible task. They are already fully aware of us - they will spare us no mercy in hunting us down. Particularly you, Ichigo.” She craned her head to look him in the eyes. “If the dampener wasn’t in place, they would have found you the moment we entered the barrier.” 

Ishida shot him a glance. “Dampener?” 

Ichigo shrugged and averted his gaze.

“So take this time to rest,” she said. She turned to Ishida and motioned for him to come close. “Uryuu, if you will.”

With that, Hanataro backed away and allowed them privacy as they whispered. Ichigo heard snippets, but didn’t feel the need to eavesdrop. It was probably some complicated battle plan that had to do with Quincies or something. Not that Yoruichi would know much about Quincies. Unless she did? 

He felt a nudge on his arm. It was Hanataro, tugging lightly on his sleeve.

“K-Kurosaki, do you know where Rukia is?” he asked. There was still a slight stutter in his voice that seemed to magnify whenever Ichigo neared.

“You said she was in the 6th division holding cell, or something like that?” Ichigo replied after a moment of thought.

“Yes, and do you know where that is?” he continued. Ichigo restrained the urge to give the guy a noogie.

“Obviously not,” he said dryly. “Can you get to the point already?”

At that, Hanataro produced a roll of paper from his pack and pressed it to the floor. It unfurled, revealing a simple map of the Seireitei, though it more closely resembled a chicken scratch. It didn’t have a legend of any kind, but some areas were hastily labelled. He pointed at a section near the bottom labelled ‘六’.

“Since the barracks of the 6th division also serve as a prison, she is there,” Hanataro said, tapping his finger right on the six. He slid it a few buildings to the right. “We are around here. Really close, right?” He chuckled nervously. “S-sorry, this isn’t my division so I’m not… very familiar…”

“We were so close to her this whole time?” Ichigo muttered, looking over the map. The middle caught his eye. He gestured to it and asked, “That’s the Shrine, isn’t it?”

Hanataro solemnly nodded.

“If you go outside, you can see it from here,” he said. “It’s a giant white building that towers over everything else in the Soul Society.” He added hastily, “D-don’t actually go outside though, please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ichigo mumbled.

They were wasting time just sitting here. Rukia was so close by, within walking distance. There was no time to rest - it was like Yoruichi said. She could be… executed any day. He aggressively tapped a finger against his knee.

“A map? How convenient,” Yoruichi piped up from behind. Ichigo whipped around only to be face to face with her - Ishida was carrying her. He stifled a yelp. “Though not very detailed…”

Hanataro giggled abashedly, scratching the back of his head. “Um, yes, I made it a while back,” he said, and bowed his head. “I’m sorry that it’s not better!”

“Lift your head, boy,” she said. “Any map is better than none at all. You did well.”

He didn’t respond, though a shy smile shone on his face.

“So we know where she is, let’s go,” Ichigo said, standing up. A claw tearing into his shihakusho stopped him in place.

“Don’t be so hasty, boy,” Yoruichi snapped. Her tone forced him to look her in the eyes. “I will warn you only once. Uryuu may well be enough to stop it, but don’t you dare get carried away. Soul Society will extend no mercy to an enemy vulnerable.”

Ichigo wavered for a moment before responding.

“I won’t get carried away,” was all he said before he left the shed. The shouts outside magnified, so Ishida set the cat down and took after him in a huff.

“Fool…”

\--

They were all in his way. No matter how many foot soldiers he threw aside, more would appear from the buildings and the streets he passed as he ran. They attacked him one at a time, all at once, in groups, but it didn’t matter. As long as he could find those barracks.

_Rukia._

The thought of her propelled him, of her so close. To see her again and make up for his mistakes. Somehow, somehow, he would. Even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming back with him. 

A hand touched the collar of his robe - he swung around and almost cut it off. He caught his own hand gripping the hilt of Zangetsu and struggled to force it down.

“Kurosaki, you passed it,” Ishida said, a slight hesitance in the way he spoke. He pointed towards a building that stood out against its peers. How did he miss that?

They were surrounded when he got distracted. All small fry. With ease, he knocked them aside, not even unsealing his zanpakuto. He stormed towards its doors.

“Kurosaki!” 

“What?” Ichigo snapped, throwing open the doors. He couldn’t sense Rukia anywhere. This place couldn’t be that big - he’d search it inch by inch if he had to.

“ _Think_ a little before you just barge in!” Ishida scolded. “This would have gone much more smoothly if you had let Yamada say exactly where she was. Now we have to search through the entire complex without being able to sense her, all while the enemy knows our exact position!”

“Can’t we just question one of those guys?” he asked, pointing behind him at the pile of unconscious bodies. Oh, right. Unconscious. He shook his head and continued the search.

“There’s no time for that, idiot,” he said. “We’re quite literally in the middle of this division’s territory. That captain, he would kill you before you could even unsheathe your sword.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing the carefully maintained look. “Just keep searching.”

Door after door, hall after hall. The building was huge, to say the least. Brightly lit with that same weird electricity at Kukaku’s cannon house, but just dim enough to not hurt. But no matter how many doors he slammed open, no matter how many of the same looking halls and walls he passed…

There was no one there.

The whole place was completely empty. Not a guard or janitor in sight. Were they expecting him? How? Then, where was Rukia? 

The entire place was steeped with that same wretched sweetness as every other part of the Seireitei, so taking a deep breath in was a mistake. He coughed as it coated the back of his throat. People were here, and recently too. There was no way he was too late.

There was no way.

“I hate to say it, but I don’t think she’s here,” Ishida said with a troubled expression. “We need to regroup with the others. There’s only one place where they could’ve taken her, and I suspect we’ll need all the-”

“I’m _not_ waiting around for another second,” Ichigo barked. He clenched his hands into fists. “ _You_ can go back, I don’t care.” With that, he turned to leave, but Ishida followed regardless.

“That’s hardly a fair choice,” he said. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but left it at that.

\--

Once again sprinting through the streets of the Seireitei, a part of Ichigo regretted not maintaining stealth. At almost every turn, he had to toss away a small group of Shinigami. Now that everyone was awake… That irritating wooden alarm had been sounding for the several hours since the morning. Was it automated? Or was there someone pounding at it? Whichever it was, each thwack was just a little closer to giving him a migraine.

He kept running, but it felt almost as if no distance was covered at all. His destination was in front of him - the giant white tower, the Shrine of Penitence. The tallest building in the Seireitei. That was the only place else Rukia could be.

How, in that short window of time that he was gone, could she have been moved? Or was both Yoruichi and Hanataro wrong? Maybe she was in the Shrine the entire time, already about to be… executed. Maybe she was already… it would explain why he couldn’t sense her anywhere.

His vision darkened around the edges - but he grabbed his own arm and dug in with his nails. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. 

Rukia was _fine._

The darkness receded slowly, as though lingering, waiting for him to make a mistake. Waiting for him to dig himself deeper.

Eventually, it left completely. Blocking the thoughts out, distracting himself. The arm he grabbed ached. He didn’t realize how hard he took hold. 

He’d been running on autopilot, letting his legs take him forward without thinking. Scaling walls, hopping buildings. Yet still Ishida was right behind him, keeping pace. Though, he could see from the corner of his eyes the concern, plain as day, painted on his face.

The Shrine of Penitence was ahead, on a carved mountainside, overlooking them all. It seemed to grow larger and larger the closer they got, but it seemed that he underestimated just how large the ‘tallest building in the Seireitei’ was. Directly ahead was a staircase. A staircase that stretched far, far into the sky along the mountain, with hundreds upon hundreds of steps. Then, above those steps, were dozens of skyscraper-esque buildings that crowded together. And yet still beyond was the Shrine itself that seemed to tower above even the clouds that dotted the sky.

‘Tall’ didn’t really cover it.

There was no time to waste being intimidated. Without more than a moment’s delay, he started towards the stairs -

And bit down on a scream as something tore into his shoulder. The searing pain spread as bladed segments rent backwards, plate by plate, one by one. Finally, it was free from him, but the fire lingered. He cupped the wound and jumped back, facing the foe.

Standing before him was Abarai Renji, carrying the bloodied zanpakuto. 

“I didn’t think you’d survive that night, or that you’d be here so soon after,” Abarai growled, stalking towards Ichigo. The wound _burned._ “But that’s the good news. I get to kill you myself. The bastard that stole Rukia’s power!”

It _burned_ , it burned, but… it didn’t bleed. He didn’t dare take his gaze from his opponent, but out of the corner of his eyes, he swore that _steam_ rose from it. 

He unsheathed Zangetsu, and the cloth that wrapped it flew to coat the hilt. He could feel it in his hands. It was itching to spill the enemy’s blood. Especially… this one’s.

“You should’ve just stayed there and bled out,” Abarai continued, voice dripping with hate. “‘Cause now, because of you, Rukia will die!”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one that took her back!” Ichigo spat. The burning stopped. “Abarai Renji…” Flickers of darkness covered his vision as they circled each other. “ _You’re_ the one with blood on your hands.”

Abarai tensed, and a manic grin split his face. With a flying leap, his released zanpakuto tore through the sky, aimed at Ichigo’s throat - but was thrown aside by a burst of salty light. It was pinned to the floor until the arrow shattered from the sheer force of Abarai’s oppressive sweetness.

“Don’t get in my way, Ishida,” Ichigo snarled without even looking Ishida’s way. He was focused on his target. “This one’s between me and him.”

Another arrow of reishi shot between the two.

“Idiot! Don’t you remember what we came here for!?” Ishida yelled, aiming a shot at Abarai. “Settle your revenge later - we need to work together to put him down quickly!”

Ichigo blocked him out and leapt at Abarai, swinging Zangetsu in a destructive arc. Though he dodged, the shockwave of the blade shattering the tiled floor sent him flying. Ichigo took the opportunity to kick shards of the tiles at the man, which was deftly deflected. 

The song of steel rang out as Abarai’s blade clashed with his own, and before the segmented plates could wrap around, he forced it to the ground. Not losing a beat, it quickly retracted and flew out again. Every arrow that pierced the air was immediately blocked by simple strikes from the two of them. 

His heart leapt and soared with every strike blocked, his blood rushed with every gash that cut him open (and closed shortly after). Before he knew it, a grin split his face ear to ear. Why was this so much _**fun?**_

The darkness seeped throughout the world around him, but it didn’t impair his vision. Far from it. He could focus much better, eyes only on his target. The sweet flame of reiatsu raged bright inside of his enemy, **begging** him to cut through it.

Another strike hurtled towards him, at his chest. But instead of using Zangetsu to block, he thrust his arm forward. It _struck_ and ate through his flesh. He could feel his bones ring from the contact, but he ignored the pain and the shout from Ishida. Instead, he grabbed onto the elongated zanpakuto and stabbed it through the ground, kicking it into the earth.

Without even a second’s hesitation, he sprinted towards Abarai, Zangetsu poised to stab through the enemy’s heart. He leapt out of the way, but Ichigo saw it coming - he gripped the cloth from the hilt of Zangetsu, twirling the entire sword in an arc. And then, he threw.

With a satisfying splatter, the blade was lodged deep in Abarai’s belly. A lazy tug on the ends of the cloth ripped the sword out, letting the **sweet** blood flow freely. He fell to the ground with a crunch.

Something began forming around his face. He knew what this was. His mask. He ignored it.

“What… the hell… are you!?” Abarai spat between labored breaths. He struggled to stand, clutching the gaping wound in his stomach. He ripped the blade from the floor, the segments joining once again.

Ichigo didn’t answer. He was **s** o **hun** g **ry.** He couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled out.

_**FINALLY**_

He didn’t bother dodging the next strike that flew at him, cutting **deep** into his collar, almost shattering the bone. The gash closed almost as soon as the blade pulled. 

“You’re… a Hollow!?” he cried. Another strike. This time, he dodged - it was at his face. “What the hell!?”

His target was getting much slower. **Sweetness** poured freely from its cut. He could practically taste it. The scent coated his throat, filtered through his mask. Saliva dribbled from his maw. He stalked closer, sword raised to stab-

A shot of pure salty-sweetness rang past his ear. 

“Kurosaki!” a not-prey shouted. “Stop! This is going too far!”

He ignored it. Eyes on the target. The **prey**. But, yet another shot flew by him. Closer, this time. 

“I told you to stop!” the not-prey said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to sit by and watch you brutalize a defenseless enemy, even if they _are_ a Shinigami.”

“I’m not defenseless!”

A growl rose in his throat. The noise the not-prey squabbled out was so **irritating.** He turned and dropped his maw to roar, but-

His mask split before he could blink. Pieces of him fell to the floor and shattered. Lodged in one was a single, perfectly angled arrow of reishi.

\--

Kurosaki fell to the floor with a thud alongside the fragments of his mask. Abarai, only a few meters away, dropped to his knees, taking deep, ragged breaths. His zanpakuto clattered to the floor, transforming back into a normal blade from its released state. Uryuu lowered his bow, relief and confusion washing over him like a tidal wave.

What. What the hell was _that!?_

One moment, Kurosaki was barely able to block any incoming blows, getting backed into a corner. Cut up and mangled. Then, out of nowhere, the sclera of his eyes turned pitch black and he just started whaling back effortlessly at the other man. Almost completely disabling him with a single stab, too. And then a _Hollow mask_ appeared on his face?

But that made no sense. Kurosaki’s spirit thread was still red. Hollows were practically the antithesis of Shinigami. There was no Hollow reiatsu coming from Kurosaki now either. So was that really a Hollow mask? What else could it have been?

Shouts from afar ended his train of thought. Without looking, he could tell it was reinforcements. He dashed to pick up Kurosaki, who was struggling to lift his head from the ground. He grunted with effort as he hoisted the almost-limp body to his feet and to lean on his shoulder. Kurosaki wasn’t exactly the lightest.

“Where… are you going!?” Abarai spat, ever so slowly climbing to his feet, using his sword as a support. Blood spilled liberally from the gaping wound in his belly. “I don’t… I don’t care what you are, this fight isn’t over!” He staggered in place, breaths ragged.

“We don’t have time for this,” Uryuu said, and turned away.

The reinforcements were closing in - he had to decide. The stairs, or the shed. Kuchiki or Yoruichi. She was slated to be executed soon - but that would mean facing against captains, practically alone. He grit his teeth. With Kurosaki in tow, he ran to the base of the stairs and powered forward. 

\--

Almost halfway up the stairs, Uryuu had to pause for breath. Kurosaki had been quiet, almost contemplative, for the entire journey. And still very limp. And heavy. Uryuu had slowed considerably since the start of the trek, but it wasn’t due to lack of will. Though Hanataro had closed the wound in his chest, he never had the chance to properly rest or recover the lost blood. 

Intense regret coursed through him, he wanted to punch himself, to pull his hair. He really made such an impulsive decision, not thinking, not deliberating at all. He really cut off his own exit with the only path forward being certain doom. He couldn’t even reconvene with Inoue or Sado or anyone else. He was such an idiot. Just like…

“You can let me go,” Kurosaki said. His expression was unreadable. Uryuu obliged, setting him down on the steps nearby. The two of them sat down next to each other.

“This isn’t the best place to take a rest,” Uryuu remarked, more to himself than anyone else. When Kurosaki didn’t respond, he continued. “So, that mask…”

He jumped slightly when Kurosaki let out a loud frustrated sigh and slammed his head into the palms of his hands. He spent a few seconds grumbling to himself before facing Uryuu, but didn’t look him in the eyes.

“God dammit, just like that, huh?” he said, but his voice was absent from anger. Reluctancy held onto every word. “I’m… I’m not 100% sure what it is, either. I don’t really know what’s going on.”

“Is it… a Hollow mask?” Uryuu asked tentatively. Kurosaki didn’t answer, but the way he tensed was telling enough. 

The silence between the two grew thick. The mask. The strange regenerative capability. The pure bloodlust he radiated. There was no denying it, but yet his thread was still red.

“Yoruichi told me to keep a close eye on you,” he began slowly, as if to not offend. “And to… stop you, if things got out of hand.”

“Stop me, huh?” Kurosaki muttered. 

“Not like that, just stop you from getting too carried away,” he placated quickly. He picked his next words carefully. “Is this a… recent development?”

Kurosaki looked uncharacteristically deep in thought, staring at the base of the stairs. He turned to Uryuu, expression twisted into a grimace. Slowly, as if forcing his own hand, he peeled away the bandage covering his chest. Layer by layer it fell to the floor. 

He felt it before he saw it.

_Hollow._

Right in the center of Kurosaki’s chest was a gaping hole. Perfectly and unnaturally round, where the heart once was. Again he looked at the thread. Still red. Before he could fully process what he saw, Kurosaki hurriedly reapplied the bandages.

“How?” Uryuu asked, dumbfounded. 

“How what?” Kurosaki said.

“Don’t play dumb - how are you… both?” 

Kurosaki ran a hand through his hair, stress clear in his mannerisms. “I don’t know, it just happened when I was training with Urahara,” he said. He abruptly stood. “Look, can we go get Rukia? We’re wasting time just sitting here.”

“Of course,” Uryuu said reluctantly. He struggled to his feet and followed suit. 

He still wanted to ask questions, but he knew that he would never get a straight answer out of him. Such a thing, the union between complete natural opposites. It was unthinkable, and yet… Kurosaki existed, right there in front of him.

He didn’t know what to feel, or what to think. Should he be scared? Should he reach out to help? Or should he leave him to sort it out on his own? It really wasn’t his business, or his baggage. They were of different worlds, of different motives. Saving Kuchiki wasn’t his goal, only vengeance against those that stole the lives of his kin was.

So what was it to him if he let Kurosaki go on a rampage? What did he care if these Shinigami died, after what they had done to him? To his grandfather? What did he care if Kurosaki got captured and gutted like an animal, or if Kuchiki got executed?

And yet, it was from his own volition that he followed Kurosaki and his friends. Without a second thought, he put himself on the line to help them. Through the Dangai, through the cannon. Even his most recent idiotic desicion, it was all to further their goal, instead of his own. Yoruichi had even entrusted him to help, despite knowing what he was there for.

They climbed the stairs in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho ho, Ichigo has Instant Regen! Or at least semi-instant. But still no nom, Ishida is so rude to interrupt
> 
> So I spent time rewatching most of the first couple arcs since my memory wasn't that great about small details. I hope to be more consistent now.
> 
> *New edit 10/4: I'M SO SORRY I'M TAKING SO LONG, I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN I'M JUST SUPER BUSY!! I'M WRITING IT RN BUT IT'LL BE A FEW MORE DAYS! Thank you for being patient... ;w;


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahh, I'm so sorry for taking so long. I was really /really/ busy. And I'm going to continue being that busy until December. Yay. -_-  
> I'll try writing faster so I can make up for it, but in the mean time, please enjoy!

_“Soten Kisshun, I reject.”_

It took longer than she thought it would. She couldn’t tell how long it had been to just stop the bleeding. One hour? Two? With tears blurring her vision, she knelt over Yumichika. Her arms were tired. Her mind was tired. 

Even though she said she would, she couldn’t bring his arm back. She lied. It was a lie. All that was left was a stump. She couldn’t… 

She couldn’t do _anything._

“Woman, stop crying,” Yumichika said. Orihime jumped back, tripped, and fell squarely on her behind. His eyes were open - he had been watching her… for how long!? “It’s annoying, and it doesn’t compliment your looks at all.”

“U-um! Sorry!” she said, and hastily wiped the rest of the tears away. 

“You’ve better be sorry,” he scolded. “Healing an enemy you just defeated? What kind of idiot are you?”

“Um…” was all she could get out. He sighed loudly.

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

“My… name? Why?”

“I can’t bear to live without knowing who defeated me,” he stated simply. “I hate to admit it, but your technique… outshined even my own.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to fall again. 

“Why the hell are you crying this time?” he snapped, but let her answer.

Through less-than-discreet sobs, she said, “I-I’m Inoue Orihime, it’s a p-pleasure to meet you.” She bowed her head from where she sat, the orange glow of the shield lighting her face. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you like this… I’m…”

“Oh, shut your mouth already, all I asked for was your name,” he huffed. “You utterly ruined my symmetry. Not that I need two arms to fight. Really, the only reason I let you live this long is because of your beauty. Beautiful people like us…”

She tuned out a little from his semi-rant. The wounds on her neck and shoulder already scabbed over with the help of Soten Kisshun, though they still ached. Healing Yumichika was more important at the time… he was about to die. She shuddered. With her own hands, her own actions, she almost took another person’s life… Even if he was the enemy, to just cut someone down like that…

“...And most importantly, I must tell you about someone you need to avoid,” he continued as she tuned back in. She blushed lightly at her mistake but said nothing. “You _must_ avoid my captain. Whatever technique you used against me won’t work against him. He’s a hundred times stronger and faster than I could ever be, and even I was able to inflict quite a bit of damage against you. If you sense him, just run - there’s no hope in fighting.”

She sniffled. “Um, what does he look like?” she asked.

“By the time you see him, you’re already dead,” he said. He raised his arm to move a stray hair away but flinched from the pain. “Your reiatsu is nothing special, girl. You’d probably die just from the pressure. But if you must know, he’s the only captain that wears an eye patch. It’s almost stylish, but it’d never work on me.”

“I see… Thank you!” she said. “Why are you telling me this, though? I don’t know anything about Soul Society, but aren’t you supposed to keep this stuff hidden?”

“You defeated me, you get information. Don’t complain about it,” he stated, an almost annoyed expression crossing his face. “It’s not much of a secret regardless, only a tip. It won’t do much to save you if he’s actually heading to find you.”

She nodded quietly. 

Despite her will to heal him, the orange glow did nothing more. She felt it, only an hour in, that it would be pointless to continue. He would be without an arm forever, because of her. Whatever willpower she managed to dreg up to do the deed in the first place was gone, expended. If only Kurosaki was here…

Wait. Kurosaki. Kuchiki- the mission!

She almost slapped herself for forgetting. Or almost forgetting. And now someone was here, subdued and willing to answer questions! What an idiot she almost was - about to leave without even having a second thought.

“Um,” she began. He looked up, interrupted from his own world. “Would you happen to know where Kuchiki Rukia is?”

“I don’t associate with nobles,” he said. “Though just about everyone heard of her crime. For something as unattractive as that, I suppose she would get no less than the death sentence.”

“D-death sentence!?” she yelped. “But she didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Idiot girl, there are laws here,” he scoffed. “Break them, and face the consequences. Possibly her position exacerbated the problem, especially with her relation to… her brother.” He shuddered dramatically. “He follows the rules to the letter, no matter what they are. Such a stickler.”

“Her own brother… are you saying that he… did this?”

“Most likely. I couldn’t care less.”

“How awful…”

“Are you done, then?” he asked, sitting up. He struggled to make the pain not show on his face, though it still showed through. “I don’t really have all day to spend here talking to you.”

“Oh, right!” she said. “You, um, didn’t answer my question. Do you know where she is?”

“I thought it was obvious,” he snarked. “She’s most likely held in the Shrine of Penitence, the tall white tower in the middle of the Seireitei. Do all ryoka really have this little information before they just come barging in?”

“Shrine of… wait, all ryoka?” she asked.

He slowly rose to his feet, stumbling slightly. Soten Kisshun dissipated and the two faeries returned to her hairpin. She made no move to stop him.

“I won’t thank you for making the stupid decision to spare me,” he said as he scanned the area. “But you have your information now, so run along and do whatever it is you were planning to do with Kuchiki. Don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut if anyone asks about you.”

“You’re… welcome,” she muttered. She felt a needle of justification enter her guilt.

“Ah, there it is,” he said to himself, and walked over to pick up his dust covered zanpakuto. “Well, I’d-”

Sado’s reiatsu _vanished._

Her eyes blew wide open. Frantically, she searched for his flame. Nowhere. Nowhere. She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t feel it at all. It was just like Kuchiki. _Gone._

No. There was _no_ way he was… He was _just_ there, seconds ago. Did a fight happen, and she wasn’t aware of it? She concentrated, spreading her search radius. … Still nothing. He was there, then he wasn’t. 

Calm down. Calm down. Her arms shook as she held herself. Think. Think.

The guy that was with him! She focused even harder, her head almost aching from the effort. His reiatsu was unfamiliar and a lot smaller than Sado’s. But still… If she could just…

Just… a bit… further…

_There!_

She couldn’t believe it. His reiatsu was even smaller than she remembered - was he also in the fight? Then, did that mean Sado risked himself just to protect him…? She shook her head.

She had to find him. Find Sado, then Kuchiki. 

Without a word, she took off running towards the guy’s dimmed flame of reiatsu.

\--

Hanataro was exhausted. Yoruichi could tell without looking. The boy struggled to stay conscious, still outputting the same kido he had been for hours, long since they had moved to the sewers. Her wounds were dressed and closed at a rather remarkable pace for just one member of the fourth division working on it. Still… it was suspicious how quickly he had turned against his own, just to follow the invaders. Just what happened in the short moments she was away? 

His face, covered in a slick of sweat, held a hard determination. To heal her? She doubted it. He had yet to try any poisons that he no doubt carried, or sabotage the healing process. If it was a front, it was an excellent one. Perhaps the boy simply carried the same naivete that the other children here did. That he could make a difference from the inside.

Or what did she know? The boy’s path was his own. As long as he remained useful here, then…

One of the children’s reiatsu vanished.

Dead? There was no sign of struggle. No bursts of reiatsu to indicate a fight. There were only a few people she knew that could do that.

She grit her teeth. Ganju was with him, he would have known to avoid any confrontation. It must have been an attack from the shadows. She shook her head. Too early to jump to conclusions. 

She couldn’t just leave them to die. These were human _children_ , ones that _she_ trained, however briefly. She was a fool to trust Kisuke. He said that they could handle themselves, that they were at least on the level of a lieutenant. With those honeyed words, he let her take them here… 

“Boy, have you anything that will restore energy?” she asked suddenly, causing him to jump from the sound of her voice. 

“F-for you? No,” he squeaked, his voice echoing throughout the tunnels.

“Not for me, for you,” she clarified. “I need you to carry me somewhere. I need to meet up with someone.”

“Whaa-? How vague… Yes, I do have a pill that would do it,” he said.

“Good. Take it, and hurry. We haven’t much time.”

Tired as he was, he protested at her demand, though gave in quickly. From his pack he procured a tiny bottle and popped the lid, swallowing some of the contents. He perked up immediately, though his outward appearance didn’t change much at all. 

Perhaps he was more than naive… perhaps he was just a pushover.

“Are you fit to run?” she asked as he stretched his limbs. He nodded dutifully. “I’ll guide you. I estimate our destination to be somewhere around the 12th division.”

He sagged visibly upon hearing that.

“That’s… so far away…” he mumbled.

“I don’t think I can utilize shunpo in my condition, but if push comes to shove, I’ll do my best to help,” she said.

“You can use shunpo!? But, you’re a…” he trailed off. She chuckled internally. If she was able, she would have loved toying with yet another brat. Now was not the time.

“Don’t sweat the details, kid,” she said. “Now hurry. We cannot lose any more time.”

With a lot less enthusiasm than before, he gently but securely picked her up, and ran towards where she directed. 

_Ganju… Sado… stay alive._

\--

With what must have been incredible luck on her side, Orihime managed to not get caught by any of the passing patrols. She knew she stuck out like a sore thumb, but didn’t have time to put her all into stealth. That was more Ishida’s thing… Still, she did her best to stick to the shadows of alleyways, out of sight.

She was close. Though, she wasn’t that far away to begin with. The guy’s reiatsu wasn’t moving. He must’ve been injured pretty badly. Or maybe he was just hiding. But he was still alive, and that’s all that mattered. He would know where Sado was. There was no way he would leave Sado behind, or the other way around.

After a few long minutes of running, she finally stumbled onto the scene. 

There was nothing. Just another alleyway, empty except for a man laying on the floor, clinging to his last breaths. The guy from Kukaku’s house...

She rushed to his side. No blood. He was gasping for air. Internal injury? Could she heal that? His eyes were closed, and he didn’t even register her presence. She shook him gingerly, not enough to hurt him. Hopefully.

Relief washed over her as he cracked open an eye to look at her. With a grimace, he coughed dryly.

“What happened?” she asked. Should she try to heal him? There were no visible marks.

“Oh, it’s you, girl,” he rasped, his sentence interjected with coughs. “The big fellow, he…” He couldn’t finish as he began hoarsely coughing. His eyes were closing again!

“S-Soten Kisshun! I reject!” she cried, sending out her two faeries once more. But where? Where was the injury? Where did she heal? She bit her lip nervously and took a guess. The chest area, with the lungs. For the third time today, the orange glow lit the surroundings.

He groaned in discomfort and seemed to wince at just about anything. At least the coughing stopped, for now. He didn’t have a scratch on him. Not on the front of him, anyways. Maybe there was something on his back. But she couldn’t turn him over, not now. 

“C-can you tell me what happened?” she tried again. “You can say it in one word answers, if-if that makes it easier.”

He took a few deep breaths, as if there wasn’t enough air around him.

“Poison gas,” he forced out. Every word took more effort than the last. “Caught us by surprise. Yer friend’s captured.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Captured? L-like taken to jail? Why did they leave you behind then?”

“The bastard,” he growled, his breathing becoming more stable. “He only wanted Sado. As a- as a test subject.” His face was twisted in a grimace as he suppressed more coughs. “I knew Shinigami were ro- rotten, but this is low even for them.”

“A test subject!?” she cried. “Who would- why? Where did he go? Please tell me!”

“Calm down, girl,” he placated. “Panicking won’t help find ‘im. Like I said, it was a sneak attack. Couldn’t even see his face ‘fore he knocked me out cold. All I heard was what he’d to do to the poor guy.”

“Then, we can’t find him?” she said, her words losing steam. “I can’t sense him anywhere.”

“Didn’t peg you for the type to lose hope that quick,” he said, attempting to sit up. He stopped, however, when she gently pushed him back. “No, we can’t find him if we just brute force our way around. We gotta find someone who knows where he’d be.”

“But how…?” she mumbled. “I don’t know anything about the Soul Society. Anyone could want to do something like that…”

“I’m goin’ to go out on a limb and guess that it was either a captain or lieutenant,” he said. “So now that that’s narrowed down, all we gotta do is beat up some lackey until they give the info. Sound like a plan?”

“Um…”

“I’m not in any condition to beat anyone up though, and I don’t want to put something like that on your shoulders.” He sighed. Then gasped. “Wait, you’re healing me!”

She blinked, not sure what to respond with. “Yes..?”

“I didn’t know you could- I thought it was weird that it stopped hurting but I didn’t connect the dots,” he said, now staring at the bright orange dome covering his chest. “Guess I was a little caught up in the moment, huh?”

“A little,” she replied bemusedly. 

“Well, that fixes everything then! You heal me, and I’ll do the heavy lifting.”

For someone just recovered from being (almost) fatally poisoned, he was pretty active. 

“I can’t heal that fast,” she said. “It might take several hours just for this.”

“I’m healed enough now, aren’t I? Thanks for the help, girl. Let me just…”

He sat up, lifting Soten Kissun’s effect - and immediately erupted into a coughing fit, scarcely taking a breath between each one. She hurriedly replaced the shield, holding him until he stabilized.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Tears welled up. She just hurt another person. Two people in one day. How could she do this, especially to someone that was trying to help her? A sick feeling curled in her gut.

“Ri- right, I’ll take your word for it next time,” he rasped. He barked out a laugh, but was quickly cut off with more coughing. “Ugh, I probably just lengthened my recovery time by another hour with that.”

She couldn’t leave him behind. If she left now, he would die. But, Sado was gone, kidnapped. He was probably being tortured or some other horrible thing. Maybe even a list of horrible things. She couldn’t just bring Kukaku’s brother with her. She couldn’t heal on the move. 

What if Sado was dying? What if he needed her, but she was too busy healing someone else? Did anyone else know about where he went? Was she the only one who could help him…? Was she abandoning him by helping someone else?

Tears flowed hotly down her cheeks. Why was she so useless? 

\--

Either Ichigo was just that bad at sensing reiatsu, or this section of the Seireitei was completely deserted. Throughout the entire time he and Ishida ran through the streets of the oddly dark city of stone skyscrapers, they didn’t say a word to each other. There were, of course, passing glances, but nothing to warrant comment. 

The Shrine of Penitence. The impossibly tall white tower. It was almost within reach. He could see it at all times now, it being so large that it took up a good chunk of his view. It was just so far away. They had been running for so long and yet they made what felt to be almost no progress at all. 

An unbelievably overwhelming stench suddenly caught his attention, like it shifted into existence from nothing. The syrupy sweetness clogged every pore of his body and coated the back of his throat. He resisted the urge to vomit then and there as he saw the source standing ahead of them.

An unassuming young man with no standout features save for a pair of glasses. He smiled warmly at them, though his gaze seemed to be focused on Ichigo. He looked so meek, yet the scent was unbearable. Ichigo tried his hardest to hold his breath discreetly, but gagged visibly. The expression on the man’s face remained unchanged.

He made no move towards them as he called out, “Good morning. Are the two of you lost?”

A waft of saltiness made him alert to Ishida, already aiming an arrow at the man. With an air of pure nonchalance, the man put his arms in the air.

“Oh, dear,” he said as if he was reading that there’d be rain the next day. “It seems I ran into the ryoka.”

“Let us pass,” Ishida ordered evenly, though his hands were shaking.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” the man stated, and moved a hand to the hilt of his zanpakuto. Ishida fired a shot. It whizzed only a centimeter away from his head, but he failed to react.

“Let. Us. Pass,” he snarled. He readied another shot, this time aimed at the man’s heart. 

If anything, he seemed amused by Ishida’s threat. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled the zanpakuto from its sheath. Ishida wasted no time - he loosed the reishi arrow. With a lazy flick of the man’s wrist, he destroyed it before it reached him. Was this another captain?

Through the intense nausea, Ichigo unsheathed Zangetsu. He prepared himself to attack, but his legs were leadened. The gap between their power was insurmountable. 

“You ryoka are quite active,” he commented. His blade laid firmly at his side. “Your goals wouldn’t happen to have something to do with Ms. Kuchiki, would they?”

His zanpakuto glinted, catching his eye. Had its hilt always been green?

“We won’t tell you anything,” Ishida said. “Stand aside.”

In the blink of an eye, he appeared at Ichigo’s side. The dust hadn’t even stirred. The scent immediately invaded his senses, almost bringing him to his knees. He jumped away, covering his nose with his left sleeve. The man chuckled lightly.

“I thought it would be most prudent to let you know something quite interesting about her,” he continued. “It’s lucky that the two of you stumbled into me.”

Something about the man’s attitude pissed him off. 

“You might have noticed that we stand here alone,” he said. “The release of the Sokyoku is an impressive event, one that few would miss.” 

His stomach dropped. “The… Sokyoku?”

The man’s expression still didn’t change from the inviting smile. His demeanor didn’t shift.

“Why, yes. The two of you had just missed the execution. It was quite the spectacle.”

No.

“You’re lying,” Ichigo growled.

He seemed genuinely baffled. “What reason would I have to lie? It was mere coincidence that you had met me on the way back.”

Ichigo finally dropped to his knees, knuckles white as they gripped Zangetsu’s hilt.

“But she… she was just supposed to be moved… moved to the Shrine of…” he mumbled.

“She was held at the Shrine of Penitence for several days prior,” the man said, confusion airing his words. His smile turned to a concerned pout. “My condolences, ryoka. Was your mission to rescue her?”

Ichigo didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. Was she dead before they even arrived? Was the mission, the entire time, pointless? But-

_Hanataro._ He said that he’d just been cleaning after Rukia. He sounded like it was recent, too. Out of everyone, wouldn’t he know?

_But what if he was lying?_

There was never a reason to trust him in the first place. He turned against his own people way too fast. Was he just wasting their time the entire time? Was he just misleading everyone? But Yoruichi trusted him just as fast.

But… Did he trust Yoruichi either? Or Urahara? But then why… there was no way Urahara would send them on a mission doomed to fail from the start. But he knew better than to not suspect he had ulterior motives from the beginning-

His skull throbbed in pain, and the nausea-induced vertigo made the world spin. He clutched his head. Even with his eyes closed, the darkness encroached.

“Hm, how terrible,” the man said, looking down at him. “Her own brother ordering such a thing. The reach of the noble houses are extensive indeed to have pulled the strings so easily.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. His voice grated, grated, **GRATED** on his ears. That man ne **eded to SHUT UP.**

The overwhelming **disgusting** sweetness attacked his senses. **Unbearable.** He slowly picked himself back from the ground, zanpakuto in hand.

“Oh, yes. I really should capture you all, shouldn’t I?” the source of the nausea said. “Regardless of the tragedy, you are still-”

Whatever he was saying was cut off as Ichigo thrust the blade through the **odor’s** midsection. The **blood** made a satisfying splatter when he pulled it clean. He didn’t wait for a reaction. He ruthlessly kicked the **odor** into the nearest wall, cracking it in the process.

His stomach complained loudly. He could almost **taste** it. **His first, well-earned kill.**

The **odor** groaned, clutching the cut spewing that **horrible, nauseating syrup.** His nose crinkled involuntarily. But he could feel it on his face again. The mask. It formed a lot quicker this time. **Who cares.**

**Who cared if his prey was dead or not? He was _starving_. So what if it wriggled and squirmed? So what, so what, SO WHAT!?!?**

He threw aside his weapon, clattering along the ground until it hit another wall. He wasted no time approaching the prey. **No more escape.** He slammed it against the wall, further cracking it. It made a **satisfying crunch.**

“Rather disappointing,” the prey said, but he wasn’t listening. It could blather on as far as he cared, as long as it didn’t **struggle.** “You’ve really lost your mind so quickly? I had hope in your evolution, but your performance thus far has been truly disappointing.”

He lunged forward, jaws agape. He aimed for the throat - but instead bit down on the prey’s arm as it rose to protect itself. Instantly, **saltiness gushed into his mouth, washing down his parched throat. His teeth tore through the white cloth, through the frail skin beneath. The prey screamed hoarsely, as if it had been doing so for quite some time-**

He sobered slightly. _Saltiness?_ He didn’t take his teeth from the flesh - he was far too **hungry** to let go just yet - but he still looked. It wasn’t the odorous prey. No, it was the non-prey. 

Did he care? He bit down further, inviting more **blood** to flow in. The non-prey shrieked and struggled, kicking at him weakly. 

“K-KUROSAKI!” it screamed into his ears, this time causing him to flinch. Its arm fell limply from his mouth to its lap. 

He savored what was left in his mouth, but didn’t go in for another. It was **screaming** too much.

“WH-WHAT THE H-HELL WAS THAT!?” it yelled, but quailed under his gaze. It curled up, attempting to clutch the arm he bit, but instead gasped as its other arm bent the wrong way.

A surge of power bubbled up, starting from the hole in his chest as it branched out. Jolts of electricity jumped throughout his entire body, giving him a new burst of energy. He hopped to his feet, and slammed a fist against the wall the not-prey was laying against. Cracks quickly covered the entire surface of the wall, and it _shattered._

So _this_ was power.

“KUROSAKI! SNAP OUT OF IT!”

He began to salivate once again. Not just because of hunger, but of power. If every prey he devoured gave _this_ much raw power, then what was stopping him from eating every sweet thing here? He turned his gaze back to the not-prey. Was it still not-prey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... 'the man' is Aizen. But then, uh oh! Was that Kyoka Suigetsu he saw? And Ichigo finally got his first nom! Phwee (sound of a party whistle). Now he's like... a quarter of the way to Gillian level! But he is a fast growing boy, so who knows. Also oh no Sado, wonder what could be happening him? That damn Frieza..


End file.
